


Everything Comes Back to You

by VioletHaze



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bed sharing, couple for the case, deancastropefest, deancastropefest2017, trapped/isolated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze
Summary: Dean knew better. Of course he did. But Cas seemed so charmed by the antique-filled bed and breakfast that Dean went along with it when the proprietor mistook them for a couple. Telling himself it gave them a strategic advantage to be so close to the crime scene, he agreed to the weekend special she offered them. When the case ended up being a bust, they stuck around anyhow because hey, the second night was free…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another tropefest, another awesome experience!
> 
> I can't say enough good things about [BusySquirrel](https://bs-acorns.tumblr.com/) for being both a wonderful artist and a delightful human being. I had so much fun working with you!! Check out her fabulous [art masterpost on tumblr](https://bs-acorns.tumblr.com/post/164791430538/art-masterpost-for-everything-comes-back-to-you).
> 
> Big thanks to [Nicky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd) for her kickass job as beta and to [Kai](https://cluelessakemi.tumblr.com/) for her unending support.
> 
> Finally, all my love to the Tropefest gang for keeping me going and making me laugh every day. Our legacy will live forever!

 

When Dean opened the door to the bed and breakfast, their arrival was announced by the tinkling chime of a bell. Inside, they were greeted both by the overwhelming scent of lavender and a woman who was more cheery than Dean had ever been in his entire life.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said from behind the counter. “Checking in?”

Dean reached towards his inside coat pocket. “Actually, ma’am, we just stopped in to—“

“Due to some recent cancellations, we’re running a special right now. Pay for one night, get one free.” The woman pulled a pen from the the grey hair gathered in a loose bun on top of her head and eyed them hopefully.

“Cancellations?” Dean smoothed his tie instead, leaving the FBI badge tucked away. Maybe there was an easier way to do this.

The clerk eyed them for a moment, but Dean kept his face neutral and sent a silent prayer that Cas would keep quiet and follow his lead. When she seemed satisfied that they didn’t know anything, she elaborated. “We, uh, had a group that was coming in from out of town but weather prevented them from traveling. As a result, we’re offering some discounts.”

Well, that was a bald-faced lie. Dean was pretty damn sure it was the mutilated body found just down the hill that was responsible for the bed and breakfast’s sudden, desperate availability.  Although the dump site was partially obscured by trees at the edge of the property, they’d been able to catch glimpses of the fluttering yellow police tape when they’d parked in the inn’s small lot.

Dean looked around the lobby. Every flat surface (and there were a lot of them thanks to a collection of small, antique-looking tables) held a lace doily or a plant in a hammered brass pot or a lamp with a stained glass shade. Time to ask the questions they’d come here to ask and get the hell out of this over-decorated nightmare.

“Actually, ma’am, we…” he tried again, glancing at Cas who was admiring an old wooden birdcage filled with small potted succulents. As he watched, Cas ran his hands lovingly over the painted wood, smiling softly.

The problem with bed and breakfasts was that there was no anonymity. No coming and going as you pleased, no sneaking back in covered in blood and grave dust in the middle of the night. But God, they’d had their share of crappy motels lately with walls that shook with every semi that roared past and pipes that screamed before letting out a trickle of rusty, lukewarm water. Not to mention roaches that they pretended not to see and the skittering sounds in the walls they pretended not to hear. Last night’s offering, just off US 30 in southwest Wyoming, was so sketchy that Dean had slept in his jeans rather than risk bare skin touching the “clean” bed.

Cas was now leaning back in a polished walnut rocking chair, hands resting on the curved arms as he rocked.

Dean sighed. Staying here _would_ put them in a perfect location to carry out their investigation. “What have you got?”

The woman smiled, relief evident in her eyes. “Is this a special occasion? Anniversary?”

Before Dean could respond, Cas answered. “It _is_ nearly the anniversary of our first meeting.”

Mouth open, Dean turned to stare at him. Cas got up from the chair to join him at the reception desk. “Next Tuesday is the 18th of September.”

Dean gathered his senses long enough to nod at Cas. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He generally remembered it when the date rolled around.

The clerk clasped her hands together in delight. “That’s perfect! I’ll throw in our special occasion package for no extra charge.”

Cas looked gratefully at Dean, who fished his wallet out of his pocket.

“How many years has it been?” The woman handed Dean a clipboard of paperwork and a pen shaped like a quill.

“Uh,” Dean said.

“Seven years.” Cas supplied promptly.

“Some days it feels like forever,” Dean muttered. He caught the clerk giving Cas a knowing smile.

“And how did you meet?”

Dean stayed focused on the papers, eyes pressed closed for an extra moment as Cas began to speak.

“He was in…a rather bad place at the time.” When Dean dared to look up, Cas was frowning at the memory. “I helped him out of it,” he finished simply.

Dean swallowed hard. That much was true.

“That sounds rather romantic.”

Cas squinted, considering. “It was actually quite exhausting.”

The clerk opened her eyes wide at this. “Well there must’ve been something there, because here you are now!”

“Oh yeah.” Dean handed her the clipboard. “Sparks flew early on.” He winked at Cas, who smiled easily back.

“That was when Dean—“

“We’ll go get our things now.” Dean cut him off before he could do any damage.

“I’ll have your key ready when you come back in,” she assured them.

Outside, Dean sucked in a couple deep breaths of fresh air before he opened the Impala’s trunk. “You get that she thinks we’re a couple, right? Like a couple-couple?”

“A romantic couple, you mean?”

Dean held out Cas’s duffel without looking at him. “Yeah.”

Cas took the bag without letting their fingers brush. “And you’re all right with that?”

Dean was silent for a beat, processing Cas’s question. “This happens sometimes. People have thought Sam and I were together before.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything and hell, it got us a discount. At least we’ll have a more comfortable night than last night.”

Cas shuddered a little. “I should think so.”

Slinging his own bag over his arm, Dean closed the trunk. The woman, who introduced herself as Mae, was waiting for them in the lobby with a wicker basket covered by a red and white checked cloth in one hand and a heavy brass key on a ring in the other. “Right this way.”

She led them through a dining room set with five small tables and a room that Dean could only describe as a parlor, complete with lit fireplace and heavy velvet curtains. Each room was small to begin with but the combination of jewel tone painted walls, dark wood accents, thick rugs, and an overabundance of furniture and knick knacks served to make them nearly suffocating.

On the other side of the parlor, a hallway led to two numbered doors, but Mae passed by them on her way to the stairs.

Cas stopped so suddenly that Dean walked into his shoulder. “Are these rooms unavailable?”

Mae stopped in surprise, with her hand on the bannister. “These are empty, but the upstairs provides more privacy.”

Cas and Dean exchanged a look.

“I assume you—“ Cas began.

“We’d prefer to be downstairs,” Dean finished. It made Dean antsy enough to be in a room that didn’t open directly to the street. Being upstairs was going to add another layer to that trapped feeling.

“Of course.” Mae handed Dean the basket she’d been carrying. “I’ll let you have the goodies while I exchange the key.” They watched as her plump figure retreated back through the parlor with a slightly stiff gait that spoke of arthritis in her hips.

Dean shifted the duffel onto his shoulder and lifted the cloth from the basket. Inside was a bottle of champagne, two crystal flutes, a small heart-shaped box of chocolates, and a jar of jasmine bubble bath. He snorted and showed it to Cas, who examined each item before lifting out the bubble bath and unscrewing the lid. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent.

“It’s very nice,” he decided, holding it out for Dean to smell. He waited patiently until Dean humored him and took a whiff. He gave Cas a quick and noncommittal nod, but the spicy, exotic scent actually wasn’t terrible.

Cas was carefully re-packing the basket when Mae arrived with the new key. She unlocked the door on the left and switched on the light. Holding the door open for them she said, “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable.”

They both thanked her and Dean tried unsuccessfully to pocket the large keyring as he closed the door.

He turned around to survey the room. There was stuff _everywhere_. The room was dominated by a four poster bed made of gleaming dark cherry wood. The bedspread had a large floral pattern in some shiny ruby red and gold fabric which, paired with the yellow painted walls, was starting to give Dean a headache. He noted an overkill of pillows in all shapes and sizes, each encased in some variation of the red and gold that covered the bed. At the foot of the bed were two comfortable-looking upholstered armchairs.

"Is that really necessary?” Dean pointed to the branched chandelier that hung from the ceiling spotlighting the bed.

Cas, busily inspecting the two armchairs, didn’t answer. They were upholstered in a different but coordinating red and gold fabric. A small blanket rested over one of the chairs and a painted wooden tray sat on a table between them holding a candle in a glass jar and a vase of roses.

“Definitely a step up from last night,” Dean allowed, trying not to look at either the bed or Cas. He dropped his duffel on the floor and set the basket on one of the chairs. Cas had moved on to leafing through the guest book that sat on a bedside table. Dean crossed to the window where thick curtains were held back with actual tasseled ties. The lawn sloped downhill toward the woods. “Decent view of the dump scene from here, so we can check that out tonight. Maybe we should go back into town and poke around until then.”

He turned at the sound of a drawer opening. Cas had set his duffel on top of the dresser (next to a vase of dried flowers that sat on an embroidered mat) and was unpacking his things.

Dean stared at him. The drill was: you threw your bag on the floor (if it didn’t look too unsanitary) or on top of the dresser and dug through it as needed. “What are you doing?”

Cas refolded a t-shirt and laid it in the drawer. “I left the other two drawers for you,” he explained, reaching in to stack his rolled socks neatly along one side. When he finished, he put the empty bag in the closet and took his toiletries into the bathroom. Dean watched him, then rolled his eyes and picked up his bag to unpack it as well.

Cas came back with his suit coat neatly over his arm and smiled his approval. Dean smiled back before he remembered this was stupid. He left his own toiletry bag on top of the dresser and opened the closet door just enough to throw in his empty duffel.

“It’s nice here,” Cas said.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it. This was just a lucky coincidence.”

“I know.” Cas sat on one of the chairs, legs stretched out in front of him, ankles-crossed. This was what he deserved, Dean thought. Opulent furnishings and luxurious fabrics. It wasn’t Dean’s thing; he was good with the bare minimum. But Cas looked right at home here, pleased and comfortable, like a satisfied, well-tended cat. He watched Cas absent-mindedly run his nimble fingers through the fringe of the blanket, watched in fascination as they curled in and out, the fringe parting like water around them.

Dean rubbed his own hands on his slacks. If he tried that, the fabric would catch on his fingertips, rough and calloused and worn from years of using them to hunt and dig in all sorts of filth. He straightened from his perch against the dresser. “I’m gonna head into town and try to get into the morgue.” Cas stilled his hand and prepared to stand, but Dean shook his head. “Maybe you can stay here and see if you can get anything else out of the owner?”

“Are you sure? I could come with you.” He’d already reached again for the blanket.

Dean tossed him the room key. “I’m sure.”

*

Pocatello was a little larger than Dean expected it to be, spreading over a valley in the shadow of the black basalt foothills in southeastern Idaho. It was a welcome sight after the desolate stretches of highway in high desert terrain that looked more suited to the surface of the moon. He parked outside the bland, cement block building that housed the coroner’s office, and talked his way into the morgue to do as quick an examination on the body as he could get away with before stepping back upstairs and into the daylight to call his brother and report his findings.

He leaned against the hood of the Impala, letting the mid-September sun warm away the lingering chill of the basement offices.

“Not teeth marks, as far as I can tell. The cuts look like a blade was used, but not with any sort of skill. More like hacked off than sliced.”

“So, nothing in an animal form, then?” He could hear Sam flipping through pages.

“I don’t think so. And the eyes are gone neat as can be. No scratches around the sockets.”

“Everything else intact?”

“Yeah. Coroner confirmed that all internal organs were undamaged. Cause of death was strangulation, but no fibers or anything to indicate what was used.”

“And the report about which digits were missing was accurate?”

“Three toes on the left foot. Thumb and pinky on the right hand.” Dean frowned, trying to make sense of the pattern or lack thereof.

“Ok, I’ll keep working on things from my end. You guys sticking around there?”

“We, uh, scored a room at a bed and breakfast right next to the dump site. It seems pretty strategic so we can, you know, ask around and check it out after dark.” He could’ve just said _yes_ . That was really all the question required. _Yes, Sam, we’re going to do some additional investigating_.

“Bed and breakfast?” Sam said lightly. Too lightly.

“It’s right on site,” Dean said again. “And uh, they gave us a deal so it’s not breaking the bank.”

“You don’t say. What kind of deal?”

Dean slapped a hand over his eyes and considered pretending the call dropped. One word was all he’d needed to say to the original question and none of this would be happening. “Two nights for the price of one.” He gritted his teeth to keep the words _special occasion_ from sliding out as well.

“I didn’t know bed and breakfasts generally had double rooms,” Sam said, with a smirk Dean could hear across the miles.

“I have to go now. Call me if you come up with anything.” He could hear his brother making snide comments about clawfoot tubs as he hung up.

*

When he returned to the inn, Mae was dusting the lobby. She smiled broadly as he entered.

“Welcome back, Mr. Winchester. I had a lovely visit with your partner while you were gone.” She flicked the feather duster over a trio of candlesticks with a practiced hand. “He’s a very interesting man.”

Dean managed a tight smile. “Yeah, he’s great.”

Mae beamed at him and then drew the duster into her chest as her eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She thrust the duster at Dean and turned to a closed door near the reception desk. Dean stared at the duster in his hand, trying to decide what to do with it as he listened to the sound of Mae rummaging around in what must be the supply closet. He was just about to set it down on the reception desk when Mae came back out, a small bottle in her hand. There was an awkward exchange as they traded items.

“Castiel requested this. You’ll see that he gets it?”

Dean glanced at the bottle. The label was printed in a flowery font, but he gathered that it was some sort of shampoo. “Yeah, sure.”

“Now, breakfast is generally served between six and nine, but since you’re the only guests here tonight, I’m happy to cook for you whenever.”

Oh right. The _and breakfast_ part. Dean hadn’t thought past their visit to the forest scene once it got dark.

“I think that time frame should be fine.” There would be family members to interview tomorrow, police records to copy. An early start would work.

Mae winked at him. “I’m here all day. And I always respect the Do Not Disturb sign.”

Dean clenched the bottle of shampoo tightly in his hand as he nodded and headed back towards their room.

He found Cas in the parlor. He sat in front of the fireplace in a leather arm chair, feet up on a matching footstool, absorbed in a book. Dean stopped in the breakfast room out of his line of sight. The lowering sun left the room suffused with golden light and, as Dean watched, the book teetered from Cas’s hands onto his chest and his eyes drifted closed. His head tipped against the sun-warmed leather, exposing the line of his neck.

Dean spotted a blanket folded on the loveseat. He could slip that book out of his hands, cover him up and let him stay there warm and cozy. After the drive and the miserable accommodations last night, Cas could use the rest. Cas’s eyes fluttered again and Dean took an instinctive step backwards even though he was already hidden from view. When he did, his ass came into contact with something hard that rattled noisily as he knocked into it. A wooden butter churn. Of course. What else would Mae keep next to the old fashioned spinning wheel? By the time he’d steadied it and moved toward the parlor door, Cas was blinking at Dean sleepily.

“How was your meeting with the coroner?”

Dean stared a moment too long, feeling a blush warm his cheeks as he watched Cas rub a hand across his eyes and then through his hair. “Fine.” His tone was abrupt as his brain screamed _abort abort_. “Can I have the key?”

Cas gave him an unreadable look, then balanced his book on the broad arm of the chair. Dean looked away the moment Cas’s hips arched upward as he dug it out of his pocket.

Remembering the shampoo in his hand, he tossed it to Cas. “Mae gave me this for you.”  Cas was still in the process of retrieving the key and the little bottle bounced off his chest and landed with a thump on the footstool.

_Jesus Christ, Dean._

Face still burning, he snatched the key and stalked out of the parlor.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, the room did indeed have a clawfoot tub.

Dean stood in the bathroom glaring at its porcelain betrayal. A peach and gold striped shower curtain hung from an oblong ceiling-mounted rod and the shower mechanism itself was a maze of chrome tubes and levers reaching up from the spigot in the tub itself. The small bathroom managed to contain no less than three fuzzy peach rugs: one hugging the base of the toilet, one alongside the tub, and one in front of the pedestal sink which was skirted in fabric matching the shower curtain. Dean kicked aside the skirt to peer underneath. Nothing. Not even extra toilet paper. The whole thing was a ruse made with yards of unnecessary adornment. (The extra toilet paper, he noted, was perched on the back of the toilet in its own wicker basket.)

Sighing, he stripped out of his fed suit and pulled on jeans, a t-shirt, and a plaid overshirt. He was hanging his suit up (on padded satin hangers) when he heard the door creak open.

Cas held up a key in explanation. “I got a second key.”

Dean nodded his approval and tried to ignore the bit of hair that had fallen onto Cas’s forehead. “You learn anything from Mae?”

Cas closed the door behind him and perched on the edge of the(ir) bed. “I learned that she and her husband used to run the inn together, but that she’s kept it going mostly on her own since she lost her husband three years ago. She has two children and five grandchildren—three boys, two girls—but she doesn’t get to see them as often as she’d like. The oldest grandson is quite good at baseball apparently—“

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “The case. Did you learn anything about the case?”

Cas sat up a little straighter. “She seemed utterly shocked by the turn of events and nothing in her response or demeanor gave me reason to believe that she was being anything other than truthful. She said the whole town was frightened and that things like this simply don’t happen around here.”

Dean nodded. “They always say that. Terrible things happen every day all over but they always seem so surprised when it happens in their backyard.”

There was a thoughtful silence as Cas considered this. “I suppose it’s easier that way. Too hard to go through life always expecting the worst.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, somebody has to.” He rolled up the sleeves of his over shirt and glanced out the window. “Still gonna be awhile until dark.”

“I’m going to lie down for a bit,” Cas said. “You should too. I don’t think either of us slept much last night.”

Before Dean could respond to this, Cas stood up and pulled back a corner the comforter. Instead of climbing into the bed, he moved a half dozen or so pillows carefully to one of the armchairs. Then he yanked the comforter down over the foot of the bed. With a rush of understanding, Dean realized he was taking apart the bed in order to make them two separate sleeping areas.

Of course.

“There,” Cas said as he wadded up the sheet and set it on the other chair. He looked expectantly at Dean who was still standing near the dresser. “No need for your top sheet tirade.”

Or not.

Cas brushed by Dean as he crossed all the way around the little seating area to the opposite side of the bed, leaving the side closest to the door for Dean. He pulled off his shoes before getting into the bed, sighing a little when he sank into the pile of pillows that still remained.

“It’s not a tirade,” Dean muttered. “I just don’t see the point of an extra sheet that’s only going strangle your legs all night.” He approached his side of the bed at a careful angle, like it might spook otherwise. He noted with satisfaction that Cas had also untucked the comforter at the foot of the bed. “Man was not meant to sleep with his feet trapped. It’s probably an evolutionary disadvantage.”

“No, it isn’t,” Cas said with the covers pulled up to his chin. “Frostbite due to freezing extremities, however, might be.”

“You aren’t going to get frostbite with a blanket over you.” Dean was warming to the argument now as he sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little bit to test the give.

“What about spiders that might crawl in? Or snakes seeking a warm place for the night? Wouldn’t a secure pocket around your feet help prevent that?”

Dean turned to glare at Cas as he swung his legs onto the bed. “That’s not the point.” Maybe it was the point. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it made him claustrophobic to be in a bed that had the covers tucked in. Sure, maybe he’d bitched about it enough that even Cas knew, but Cas would be thanking him if they had to react quickly in the middle of the night.

Dean lay back. Oh. Oh, that was nice. The mattress itself was firm but still cushy and soft. He arranged the pillows under his head and adjusted the comforter across his chest. He wiggled his feet happily. “You know,” he began and turned to look at Cas. But Cas had his eyes closed. He was turned slightly toward Dean, his cheek resting on the pillow.

Dean quickly moved his gaze to the ceiling and clasped his own hands over his chest. A moment later, he darted another glance over. This time he looked long enough to see the curl of Cas’s dark lashes and the way his lips parted as he relaxed into sleep. Dean was nearly close enough to feel the soft puff of his breath and he was struck with the urge to edge ever closer. Without meaning to, he shifted his shoulder a fraction of an inch just as Cas reached up to rub his nose. Dean turned his head back so quickly that he felt his neck twinge with the violence of the movement. He closed his own eyes, but his heart was beating a guilty rhythm. He lay there painfully aware of their nearness, hyper-vigilant to Cas’s every small movement.

He didn’t sleep, but the slow, regular sound of Cas’s breathing was enough to lull him into a relaxed state. Other than a few small distant noises: Mae’s footsteps in the hall, the closing of a door, an occasional gurgle from the toilet, he soaked in the peacefulness and comfort of his surroundings as the sun shifted, lengthening the shadows.

He lay there until Cas awoke, pressing his face into the pillow and making a small hum of contentment as he returned to consciousness. Dean willed himself not to look.

He looked.

Cas blinked at him, blue eyes soft and sleepy.

Dean couldn’t help it. He smiled. “Feel better?”

Cas responded with a stretch before sitting up and rubbing his face with both hands. The comforter pulled off of Dean as Cas sat up, leaving him feeling oddly exposed, and he hurried to sit up as well.

“I’m hungry,” Cas announced.

*

Mae insisted on giving them some suggestions for dinner. “Antonio’s is the nicest restaurant in town. Candlelight, soft music, oh and the absolute best tiramisu. I’d be happy to call ahead and let them know you’re celebrating.” She smiled at them, her brown eyes shining, and for a moment Dean was touched by her warmth and open acceptance of the two of them. Here in this small town in the middle of nowhere, he’d found more acceptance of his fake boyfriend than he’d ever thought possible.

“Do they have pie?” Cas asked in the same serious tone he used when interrogating witnesses.

“If you’re looking for pie, then The Franklin Café is the place to go.” She hesitated. “It’s not fancy, though.”

Dean pretended to consider the options. “Did you have your heart set on fancy, Cas?”

Cas opened his mouth, then closed it again and tilted his head, squinting. “Did _you_?”

This was too easy. “I mean, it’s an anniversary. Special occasion.” He looked at Mae. “Do they have one of those violin guys who play at your table?”

Mae looked crestfallen and shook her head. “Sometimes there’s a piano player.”

Cas continued to look at Dean like maybe he’d be trying to exorcise him in the car.

Dean sighed in mock disappointment. “Oh well. I guess we’ll stick with the pie place then. Thanks anyhow.” He took a step toward the door, then turned back to loop his arm around Cas’s shoulders. ”Shall we?” he asked as he maneuvered him out.

*

After dinner (Dean ate his slice of apple pie a la mode as well as half of Cas’s pecan) they drove around aimlessly waiting for it to be dark. Cas read through some files that Sam had emailed, but there was nothing that jumped out at either of them as a match to the kind of defacement the body had received. When Dean deemed the sky dark enough, helped along by the gathering of rain clouds swelling at the horizon, he drove past the woods and all the way back to the inn to park right in front. Cas looked at him curiously.

“I’ve got this,” Dean said as the bell on the door jingled.

They found Mae setting a table for tomorrow’s breakfast. “Have a nice time?”

“Yes, thank you for the recommendation.” Mae beamed at Cas and his lovely manners.

“Yeah, it was great, but we’re gonna call it a night.” Dean winked at her broadly and sure enough she flushed.

“Oh, of course. Since you’re the only ones here, I’ll make breakfast whenever you’re up and about.”

“Awesome. I’m sure we’ll be good and hungry in the morning.” He ruffled Cas’s hair affectionately. Cas gave him his patented disgruntled bird look.

“Good night, you two!” Mae chirped as they left the room.

Safely out of her hearing, Dean explained his plan. “Once she thinks we’re in the room, we can sneak out and take a look.”

“What if she comes by?”

“She won’t,” Dean said confidently, slipping the ribbon that held the Do Not Disturb sign over the brass doorknob.

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed. “How long should we wait?”

Dean looked at him, looked at the way his shirt was open with a hint of collarbone showing. He wondered what the jut of bone would feel like against his lips. How pink his flesh would turn if he were to bite down gently on it. He swallowed hard and walked over to the closet. “I’m gonna change if we’re going to be tromping through the woods.”

He heard a soft creak of springs as Cas got to his feet and moved to the window. “Looks like the rain is picking up.”

“Of course it is,” Dean muttered, hanging up his flannel and layering on a Henley over his t-shirt. He should change into his older jeans, but suddenly he felt weird about just pulling off the ones he was wearing, even though he’d done it countless times before in countless other shared rooms. Maybe he could take them into the bathroom and change but even though that was a reasonable course of action it seemed glaringly off to him and he was sure Cas would notice.

Because Cas was always watching everything he did. Always asking ridiculous questions like he genuinely wanted Dean’s answer. Dean kept waiting for the day to come when he stopped, when he learned to pretend to know what was going on until he figured it out like the rest of them did, but so far that hadn’t happened. Dean pulled his old jeans out of the drawer. Maybe if Cas went to the bathroom he could hurry and change into them out here. He stopped himself from overthinking and pushed the drawer closed firmly. He was being absurd. If he wanted to change, he should just do it.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow a shirt?”

Dean pressed his eyes closed and took a deep breath before he opened them and turned around. Cas had his shirt most of the way unbuttoned now and Dean allowed himself a quick perusal of smooth skin over toned muscle before looking him in the eye (no idea how that detour to Cas’s lips happened). Cas stood, eyes fixed on him as he pushed the shirt off one shoulder then the other, awaiting his response.

“Uh, sure, man, take whatever you want.” Dean waved in the general vicinity of the dresser and closed himself in the bathroom to breathe.

*

It was easier in the cool night air. They slipped out the side door near the stairs, propping it open just enough that it wouldn’t latch behind them. Hugging the back of the building, they moved swiftly but carefully until they could cut across the lawn to the driveway and from there to the road. They moved quietly down the shoulder, the slap of Cas’s boots on the wet asphalt behind him the only sound. Despite the roiling clouds, the moon was three-quarters full and Dean didn’t need to pull out the flashlight from his pocket until they ducked into the trees. The terrain sloped from the pavement, tree roots and rocks cluttering the way as they worked toward the fluttering caution tape. The further they got from the road, the steeper the grade and soon they were side-stepping to keep their balance as the terrain dipped down, leaving the dump site invisible from the road.

They split up to circle the site, flashlights out to look for slashes or teeth marks or strange bits of fur. Dean studied the ground, looking into the mud that was beginning to squelch under his boots for bits of bones or cloth or anything that could make up a hex bag. By the time they met at the far side of the site, the rain was falling from Dean’s hair into his eyes and he’d yet to find a thing.

He and Cas took cover under a large tree to confer.

“Anything?”

Cas shook his head, then frowned, looking back in the direction of the road. “I thought I heard something.”

They switched off their lights in tandem, trying to catch the sound of anything over the pattering rain. Dean tried to focus, but it grew increasingly difficult as Cas leaned into his personal space trying to get a better look.

“It sounded like a car door closing,” he murmured, close enough that Dean could feel the heat of his breath against his cheek.

All Dean had to do was turn his head. Swivel it a tiny bit and he could press their mouths together, press Cas up against the tree trunk, not caring who was coming or who might see. One small movement was all he needed to take that risk, close the gap between them, and see where it went. Whatever followed had to be better than this everlasting holding pattern of frustration and obfuscation. Cas would kiss him back or he would shove him away but either way, Dean would _know_.

It was a simple solution. And it was Dean’s favorite kind: one that required no words. He could do this.

Cas’s shoulder was right up against his as he searched the dark, rain streaming off the leaves with the occasional wet splat down into Dean’s collar.

 _Turn your head,_ he told himself just as the sharp crack of a branch sounded clear as a gunshot.

Startled, he stepped backwards and a rock rolled from under his foot, tumbling down the hillside. His foot slipped in the loose mud and he went down on his knees with a cry of surprise. Even as the wet dirt soaked through his jeans, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps running back toward the road.

“Go!” He yelled at Cas, but Cas was bracing himself, knees bent, feet planted, and with one hand against the sturdy tree trunk as he extended the other hand to Dean.

As a car drove off in the distance, Dean shook his head and ignored Cas’s hand to get to his feet and climb back up the little rise. Cas was forever reaching down to lift him out of whatever mess Dean found himself in. One of these days Cas would tire of trying to pull him up and Dean wouldn’t blame him. Besides, he could take care of himself. He made it two steps before he slipped again and went down hard on his left elbow. By now, he was close enough that Cas could grab his upper arm and haul him the last bit.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Dean looked down at his own mud covered hands in silence, then wiped them on his ruined jeans. Cas had that concerned look, like nothing was more important than Dean’s well-being. It was bullshit and they both knew it. A rise of anger and frustration swelled in him. “You should’ve gone after him. That was the whole point of being out here. So much for our lead.” He shook his head in disgust and strode past Cas back toward the road. His jeans felt soggy and heavy and he could feel the mud drying between his fingers, but at least he was warm now from the heat of his own self-righteousness.

Cas followed him in silence all the way back to the inn, only speaking when Dean yanked open the side door.

“Maybe we should—“ he began, indicating Dean’s muddy boots.

“Yeah ok. I know.” Dean reached down to untie them and nearly lost his balance again pulling off the first one. Cas pretended not to notice.

Boots in hand, they crept back to their room. Sitting on a tray on the floor outside the door was stack of fresh towels and a vase of flowers. Cas brightened as he picked up the tray. “Well, these will come in handy.”

Dean gave him a blank look and unlocked the door. The Do Not Disturb sign swayed on the knob as he pushed it open.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Dean stood in the middle of the room trying to figure out what to do with his boots.

Cas set down the tray on the bedside table and reached for the complimentary newspaper. He unfolded it and laid it on the floor, placing his boots on it. Dean had no choice but to carry his boots over and set them down as well.

“Dean,” Cas said, as Dean made for the bathroom.

Dean stopped and sighed. Cas had every right to call him out for his bullshit. Yelling at him had been completely unnecessary, but Cas had let him vent, listening to him placidly. He deserved to be called out for it but, as the mud began to congeal, he was most definitely not in the mood. Dean took a breath and turned around with his mouth set, hoping he could get out of this conversation with a glare. He found Cas holding out the fresh towels and the little bottle Mae had given Dean when he’d come back from the morgue.

“I know you don’t like the shampoo with the conditioner in it, so Mae found some regular shampoo for you.”

 _Jesus, I’m an asshole._ Too chagrined for words, Dean nodded his thanks and took the offered gifts. In the welcome solitude of the bathroom he set them down, conscious of the muddy fingerprints marring the edges of the towels. He looked in the mirror and discovered a streak of dirt running across his cheekbone and extending into his hair.

Even though he had to awkwardly climb in and out of the clawfoot tub (for once the universe smiled upon him and Cas didn’t have to witness him wet, naked, concussed, and tangled in a yanked-down shower curtain), the shower was exactly what he needed. And even though the shampoo was some weird tropical lime ginger scent, it smelled good. He stood under the spray for a long time until the water pooling by his toes ran clear. With the abundance of towels, he used one on his body and devoted another to his hair. He left his muddy clothes over the edge of the tub to dry, then realized he’d neglected to bring clean clothes in with him. Again, it wasn’t like he'd never paraded around in a towel in motel rooms before, but this whole thing had gotten into his head. Before he ventured out of the bathroom, he wrapped a towel around his waist and checked that he’d gotten all the mud off his face.

Cas was already in bed, propped up by a pile of pillows, reading. The vase of flowers sat on what was now Dean’s bedside table (it was the nearest flat surface to set them on, right?) and the candle was burning on the small table between the two chairs.

Dean was hit with a pang of domesticity. The bunker was his home now. He had his own room filled with his own things. Things that nobody touched. Things he didn’t have to share. After a life always on the move, a life of temporary places, that’s all he’d wanted. A place he could always depend on. A place just for him. Or so he thought.

What would it be like to come home every night to someone waiting for you? Someone who fit into a shared space comfortably. Someone who looked forward to your arrival as the best part of their day.

With his back to Cas, he wriggled into clean underwear before dropping the towel and fishing out a t-shirt and sweatpants. His every move felt awkward and the more he tried to act casual, the more calculated every motion felt.

“Do you want..." Cas began as he got into bed and Dean froze with one foot still on the floor. “A piece of chocolate?” Cas held out the candy they’d gotten at check-in all the while studying the paper insert from the box. He glanced at the open box, then back at the paper. “The one with the rounded top appears to have coconut inside.”

“Uh. I just brushed my teeth,” Dean said, like it was an absolute moral state that could not be crossed. Yes, the Dean Winchester who often fell asleep with a bottle of whisky still in his hand would never dare eat anything once his teeth had been thoroughly brushed.

“Of course.” Cas selected a piece for himself, comparing it to the illustration before taking a careful bite. “Nougat,” he confirmed. He repackaged the box and set it on his nightstand before getting out of bed to blow out the candle and take his turn in the bathroom.

With Cas gone, Dean settled himself on his side of the bed, pulling their pillows apart so they didn’t touch. Maybe he could pretend to be asleep before Cas came back. He pulled up the covers and could feel himself making the fakest asleep face anyone had ever made. Before he could try to reposition his features into something that would pass as natural, he remembered his phone was still in his jacket pocket and threw back the covers so he could dig out his charger and set it up for the night. As a result, he and Cas got back to the bed at the same time, resulting in a weird tussle for covers and a few unintentional leg brushes.

Seemingly unconcerned, Cas switched off the light and they laid side by side in the dark.

 _This is weird_ , thought Dean. _I should just say that and get it out in the open. ‘Hey this is kinda weird, huh Cas?’_ But would that make it more weird? It probably would. Especially if Cas didn’t think it was weird. But how could he not. Cas had to be feeling the tension between them, the weird energy that came from being so close together in this bed. He thought a moment longer and finally decided that this was not the time to bring it up. Tomorrow morning he could say ' _Hey man, that was weird_ ,' and they’d laugh and that would be that. He’d totally say it tomorrow.

As he rolled to face the door, he thought he heard Cas softly say “Goodnight, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke first the next morning. He woke with his face pressed against something firm. He blinked, trying to get his bearings. Cas was still perfectly positioned with his head in the center of his own pillow, while Dean had somehow crossed the demilitarized zone he’d carefully created between their pillows to rest against Cas’s nice firm shoulder. He knew without a doubt the he should move back to his own side before Cas woke up, but he was sleepy and it was exceedingly pleasant here with his forehead against Cas’s upper arm. His sleeve had pushed up just enough that Dean’s nose pressed against bare skin. The thought occurred to him that he could lick Cas’s arm from here. Easily just touch the tip of his tongue to warm skin. And from there he could…

Dean forced himself to let his trail of thought trickle off, but he realized with dawning horror that his dick was doing some extra-credit thinking. In a panic, he scooted his hips backwards which had the unintended and unfortunate effect of drawing his knees up until they pressed against Cas’s thigh. Jesus Christ. Now he’d gone from an awkward forehead touch to two points of contact and that was a hell of a lot closer to _cuddling_.

It was rip off the bandaid time so Dean rolled quickly onto his back. Cas stirred and made a soft noise, turning his head toward Dean. _Look at the ceiling, look at the ceiling_ , Dean told himself, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away as Cas blinked awake. He woke confused, frowning until he oriented himself, then his face softened. Dean swallowed loudly as Cas met his eyes and smiled.

His eyes were puffy with sleep and his cheeks were pink. There was an indentation on the side of his face from a crease in the pillowcase and Dean wanted to smooth that line with his fingertips. Cas slowly pushed up onto his elbow to look around the room. The back of his head was a wreck, hair standing in every direction. After Dean smoothed his cheek, he’d comb his fingers through his hair to restore order.

“What a comfortable bed,” Cas said. “Did you sleep well?”

Dean was used to that rough morning voice, but he wasn’t used to hearing it when the covers were still warm from their combined body heat. He went to answer, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah. Good sleep.” What the hell did that even mean. Good sleep. _Good God, Dean._

Keeping his crotch strategically angled away, he threw back the covers and sat up. “I can let Mae know we’ll be ready to eat soon, if you want to shower.”

He ignored Cas stretching both arms overhead. He wouldn’t look down to see if his shirt rode up. He wouldn’t.

He looked.

He wondered if it would feel the same as the skin on Cas’s arm. Would it be softer? Leaner? He was still lost in thought when he heard Cas say his name.

Hurriedly, he pulled on clothes and left the room.

*

Mae was sitting in the breakfast room with a cup of coffee. All of the tables were covered with cloths, but only one—the nearest to the big, sunny window—was set with dishes and silverware.

“Good morning!” Mae said even before Dean was all the way in the room. “Have a pleasant night?”

For a split second, Dean thought Mae _knew_. Then he remembered what she thought she knew. And those two things were almost the same, which made it extra confusing. And now he’d waited too long to answer a simple question.

“Yeah, we had a...” _don’t say it_  “good sleep.” _Seriously, what the fuck_.

“Well, I know I slept better knowing there were a pair of big strong men under my roof.”

Dean smiled at her and pushed down the fact that they’d left her door unsecured at a time when there was definitely something deadly on the prey in the area.

Mae got to her feet. “Let me get started so everything is hot and fresh when your better half gets here.” She took her cup and disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchen.

By the time Cas joined him (hair damp and lying strangely flat), Dean was scrolling through local news reports. Mae came out with a tray dominated by a silver coffee pot and poured them each a cup. “Cream?”

Dean lifted his head to refuse, but Cas had already accepted and Mae set a floral-patterned china pitcher down on the table. Dean slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Cas stirred two packets of sugar into his black coffee and watched as Dean picked up the little pitcher. The china was so delicate it was nearly translucent and Dean could barely fit his fingers into the curved handle.

“This is a treat,” Dean said approvingly once he’d poured a generous amount of cream into his cup. “I can’t do those little individual creamers.”

“I know,” Cas said.

“You do?” Dean furrowed his brow as he lifted the steaming cup to his mouth.

“You used to have to steal them to use for Sam’s cereal. You needed at least a dozen just for one bowl.”

Dean frowned. “I told you about that?”

“Sam did. I always wondered why you drank your coffee black sometimes but not others.”

“Yeah. I was always trying to pocket them to have for him and half the time they’d burst or leak. Everything I owned smelled like sour milk.” He could still feel the ridged cups rattling in his pocket as he tried his best not to crush them, remembered opening them carefully so they didn’t splash everywhere while Sam leaned on his leg, waiting and hungry. It was easier to eat his own cereal dry.

“That was a lot of responsibility for you,” Cas said, with his eyes full of a sadness that Dean didn’t want to contemplate.

Dean shrugged it off and took a drink of the coffee. It was rich and creamy in his mouth. Definitely not from a pot that had been waiting on a hot plate. He checked the kitchen door before leaning in a little. “So after breakfast we’ll go interview the wife of the victim. We’ll have to put our suits in the car and change along the way.” It wouldn’t be long before Mae figured out that her guests were also the two FBI agents seen around town, but until that happened it was easier to fly under the radar.

Cas hesitated, clearly not fooled by Dean’s abrupt subject change. Then he nodded his agreement just as Mae came back out, using her hip to open the door since her hands were full.

Dean sat back in his chair and she set the plates in front of them. Each plate was piled high with a perfectly made cheese omelettes, crisp bacon, sausage links, and fried breakfast potatoes.

“I’ll be right back with the toast,” Mae assured them. “Need anything else? Ketchup? Hot sauce?”

“Hot sauce, please.” Cas spread his napkin on his lap and picked up his fork.

“This looks wonderful,” Dean said, smiling up at her. “Definitely better than what we get at home.” He cocked his head toward Cas and stage whispered, “He’s a terrible cook.”

Cas squinted at him. “How am I supposed to learn when you banish me from the kitchen?”

Dean huffed. “That was one time!”

It had been one time. But Cas hadn’t asked to help again, not after Dean had snapped at him for the millionth question. No, he didn’t follow the recipe exactly, but there was an art to cooking that came from touching and tasting and making adjustments. It was like working on an engine. You had to get your hands in there and experience it for yourself and...yeah, Cas was right. How else _was_ he going to learn?

“It’s nice to cook for folks who appreciate eating.” Mae turned back to the kitchen.

Dean picked up a slice of bacon and took a big bite. Cas was already working on the eggs, chewing with a thoughtful expression. Mae was back in a flash with a basket filled with assorted toast and a small china dish with butter. She pulled a bottle of tabasco from her apron pocket and set it on the table as well.

“Now, take your time. I put a batch of muffins in the oven, too.”

“If you keep spoiling us like this, we’ll never leave.” Dean flashed her a bright smile.

She looked pleased as could be. “How about waffles for tomorrow morning?”

Dean pressed a hand to his heart. “You wouldn’t tease about something like that?”

Mae smoothed her apron. “Let me go check those muffins.”

Dean offered the hot sauce to Cas, who shook his head. Dean sprinkled some on his eggs and potatoes and they went back to eating in comfortable silence. Dean watched as Cas methodically spread butter over a slice of wheat toast, careful not to miss a single spot.

When Mae came back out with a plate of muffins and a fresh pot of coffee, Dean nodded for her to join them. Cas pulled a chair over for her while she retrieved her mug.

“So what do you fellows have planned for today?”

Dean could have played it cool, giving a vague answer about seeing the sights. Instead, he rested both elbows on the table and leaned forward to give Cas his full attention. “What’d you have in mind, babe?” Cas chewed his toast slowly, eyes narrowed in a way that had Dean deciding he’d better keep talking. He turned his focus to Mae. “What would you suggest?”

“Well, that depends. If you want to be active, we have a lot of nice places for hiking. If you’re looking to shop, there are some cute stores downtown and some places for antiquing a little further out.” She held up a finger. “Let me get you some coupons.”

She was back surprisingly quickly with a folder for them. “There are discounts for a lot of places in here. If you’re really looking to relax, we have a coupon for the massage place in town.” She pulled it out and showed it to them, then leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s one of those chains so if you don’t use it here, you can take it home with you.”

The last thing Dean needed was the thought of Cas lying naked on a table glistening with oil. He took the offered folder and pretended to leaf through it. “Hmmmm.”

Mae thought a moment longer. “With the leaves turning, sometimes it’s nice to drive and take in the foliage.”

Dean lightly slapped the table in front of him. “Drive and take in the foliage! That sounds like our kind of thing, wouldn’t you say, Cas?”

Cas held his coffee cup in both hands, but didn’t drink from it. “You do like to drive, Dean.”

With that “decided”, Mae went back into the kitchen while they finished the last of their breakfasts. They were pushing back their chairs when she came out with a bag. “Here are a few more muffins and some fruit to take with you.” She smiled at Dean, but her smile froze a little as she looked at Cas. Dean followed her gaze and saw she was distracted by a smear of jam on the side of his mouth.

Oblivious, Cas reached for the bag and quietly thanked her.

“Uh, you’ve got a little…” Dean waved vaguely toward his own face. Cas held the bag to his chest and stared at Dean’s face trying to decode the message.   

Okay, fine.

Dean’s arm seemed to move in slow motion as he reached it up to catch Cas’s chin in his hand, feeling the freshly-shaven skin soft against his fingertips. He held his face still and used his thumb to swipe the jam away. To his credit, Cas stood perfectly still instead of backing away. As ridiculous as Dean felt, there was another part of him that wanted to lick the jam right off his finger. Which was only slightly better than the urge to have licked it directly from the corner of his mouth in the first place.

Dean took a little extra time cleaning his fingers on the napkin he’d left on the table. When he looked back up, Cas had two fingers still touching the place Dean had wiped.

Mae was beaming at them. “Waffles tomorrow,” she confirmed as she began to clear the empty plates.

*

They drove to the widow’s house, stopping at a gas station to change into their suits. She lived in a quiet neighborhood, and her yard was tidy with mature plantings, an actual white picket fence, and a porch swing. Mary Jane Sutton was in her early sixties, and she was a perfect match to the comfortable house: soft around the edges with a headful of fuzzy grey hair. She answered the door red-eyed, but gamely ushered them in, leading them to the living room. The furniture was worn, in a lived-in way, and the room was bright with sunshine coming in through the large front windows. Mary Jane pulled a crumpled tissue from her pants pocket and fidgeted with it as she answered their questions.

Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day, she assured them. Her husband had gone out to run errands. He’d planned to stop at the hardware store for a new fluorescent bulb for his work shop in the garage, then he had a small shopping list for the grocery store. When he wasn’t home three hours later and didn’t answer his phone, she’d gotten concerned. The police had found his body near the bed and breakfast the following day.

“And there’s no one you can think of who would want to hurt him?” Dean asked as gently as he could.

Mary Jane shook her head as she tried to find her voice. “I can’t imagine. Neil was a kind, thoughtful man. He’d just retired from his job at the gas company and he’d taken up woodworking now that he has—had—so much free time. We have a new grandbaby coming in January and he was refinishing the rocking chair we’d used with our own kids to pass along for the nursery.”

Cas nodded his sympathies to her and she locked onto him and his solemn face. “We’ve been married forty-two years and every single week he brought me flowers. Sometimes a bouquet from the florist, sometimes a single rose from the front yard, but every week like clockwork.” She gestured to a vase of drooping lilies on the coffee table. Shriveled yellow and orange petals ringed the base of the crystal. “I can’t bring myself to get rid of these,” she said and tears spilled down her cheeks. She dabbed at them with the tissue and Cas leaned forward to lay a hand on her arm.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said and she managed a small smile. “We will do everything we can to find out who did this.”

This kind of raw emotion always made Dean a little twitchy and he tried not to curl and uncurl his hands into fists. Sam was generally the one in charge of comforting grieving witnesses, and Dean wasn’t sure when it had become Cas’s job, but he was grateful to be off the hook. Something about Cas’s unflinching eye contact seemed to resonate with Mrs. Sutton, giving her a lifeline amidst her swirling grief. And even though Dean was used to dismissing it as creepy staring, this wasn’t the first time he’d noticed that it made people feel heard, their opinions and feelings validated.

They had all the information they needed, but Dean knew it would be rude to get to his feet while she was still crying. He glanced around the room and caught sight of a wall covered in framed photographs. He could track the development of the family, from Mary Jane looking impossibly young in a wedding portrait, to the birth of their son and then a daughter. Family portraits in front of Christmas trees, candid photos on beach vacations, high school graduations, then Mary Jane and Neil formally dressed and smiling as they flanked their son and his new bride.

Dean knew, of course, that the cases they investigated were real people with families and loved ones, but much of the time it was easier to pretend they weren’t. Here, faced with this family’s entire timeline in photos, Dean felt the weight of their loss pressing down on him, shrinking the room around him. He took some slow, deep breaths while Cas continued to comfort the woman. “Is there someone who can come be with you here?”

She nodded. “My daughter is staying with me. She’ll be back any minute now.”

Dean cleared his throat and Cas turned to look at him. “Thank you so much for you time, Mrs. Sutton. My partner and I appreciate it.”

Dean slid a business card onto the coffee table and gratefully got to his feet. “Call us if you think of anything else. We’ll see ourselves out.” He made sure Cas was following. “You take care.”

Back outside, Dean’s breath came easier and he wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks. They were no closer to knowing what had happened, but whatever misfortune had befallen this family, he felt fairly confident that Mr. Sutton was merely an innocent victim.

In the car, he sat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You, uh, did a nice job in there.”

Cas lifted his head from where he’d been contemplating his own hands in his lap. “Thank you. It didn’t feel like I was doing much.”

“Well, you made her feel better.” Dean started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Everything about her life seemed so normal. Marriage, coupla kids, house on a quiet street.” He shook his head. “Now this.”

Cas didn’t respond and they drove back toward the center of town in subdued quiet, finally broken by Dean’s cell phone ringing. Seeing it was Sam, Dean answered. “Hey.”

“Hey, Dean. How’s the B&B life? Doing any antiquing?”

“Shut up, Sam. In case you hadn’t noticed there’s a dead guy here and we are trying to solve a case. Just finished interviewing a grieving widow,” he added, more smug than he had a right to be seeing as he’d been mostly useless the entire time.

“Yeah, about that. I’ve been in contact with some hunters down near Provo and word is they arrested a guy in your case.”

“Oh yeah?” He caught Cas’s eye and mouthed the word “arrest”. Cas leaned in a little closer and Dean held the phone slightly away from his ear so Cas could hear as well. He probably should’ve just put it on speaker, but he got a little distracted by the scent of Cas’s hair as he moved in. It was different than the shampoo Dean had used. More citrusy maybe…wait, Sam was talking.

“As far as anybody can tell, it’s nothing supernatural.”

Dean frowned. “Really? All that body mutilation?”

“There’ve been some other killings that fit but don’t match exactly. The guy has a long record that’s escalated over time so it appears to be a good old-fashioned serial killer.”

“Huh,” Dean said. “Well, I guess our work here is done.”

“Plenty of time for garden tours and spa treatments now.”

Dean considered his options. They'd slept a little longer than he'd intended and it was about a thirteen hour drive back. If they left now, they’d get back to the bunker in the middle of the night. The alternative was to spend another night (for free) and leave after breakfast tomorrow. He glanced over at Cas who had picked up the folder Mae had given them. If they left now, they’d miss out on those waffles Mae had promised. “This whole thing doesn’t sit right with me. We’re gonna poke around here some more today to make sure we didn’t miss anything and we’ll head back first thing tomorrow.”

Sam turned serious. “Yeah, I don’t know why it feels worse to think a regular human did this, but it does. Let me know if you come up with anything.”


	4. Chapter 4

They spent the afternoon checking, double checking, and trying to chase down new leads but everything they encountered seemed to corroborate Sam’s information. Law enforcement had the case well in hand and a part of Dean was secretly relieved that he wouldn’t have to be the one to inform Mrs. Sutton. There could be no comfort in knowing that her husband had been killed for no other reason than a truly evil person’s need to take a life. Hunting the supernatural was often a thankless job, but there was a certain satisfaction in taking out these threats while leaving everyday civilians cloaked in blissful ignorance. This community was about to be confronted with the existence of a real live human monster. It left Dean feeling helpless, impotent, and a little rattled. Cas, too, seemed shaken and at one point Dean heard him murmur, “My Father never could’ve imagined…”

(He probably could imagine every possibility seeing as he’s God, Dean thought, but decided this wasn’t the time to point that out.)

When they finally arrived back at the inn, having stopped to change into casual clothes again, Mae was in the lobby.

“You fellas have a nice day?”

Dean looked to Cas, but he was examining a glass shaded oil lamp that sat on a spindly table, so Dean took it upon himself to answer. It was probably the fact Mae would soon be coming face to face with the fact that a serial killer had crossed her path that made him compensate for their own discouraged moods with extra good humor.  “We sure did, didn’t we, babe?”

Cas whipped his head around at the endearment and looked so honestly touched by it that it caused a churning of guilt in Dean’s stomach. “We did.”

“I don’t know how far we drove, but it was beautiful the whole way. We found a place to stop for sandwiches and ended up having a picnic at a park along the way.” They’d had greasy slices of pizza between the police station visit and the research they’d done at the public library.

“That sounds lovely. I’m so glad the weather held out. More clouds moving in tonight, it appears.” She shook her head. “We have had the worst luck with weather. Every year my husband and I used to go to our property in Wyoming to see the Perseids meteor shower. I don’t go any more but I rent out the cabin and this year the sky was completely clouded over.”

Cas perked up a bit at this. “It would be wonderful to watch a meteor shower.”

“You’ve never seen one?”

“Not from….this vantage point,” Cas said, with a sad faraway look in his eye.

“Well, for your next anniversary you should come back here and do that.” Mae chattered on about the cabin and where it was and how nice it was to get away from the city.

“We would love to take you up on that,” Dean said, mostly to get her to stop talking, but Cas managed an actual, albeit small, smile at that.

It was enough to derail Mae into more immediate concerns. “All right, so you had a picnic lunch and there will be waffles tomorrow, but you’ll be needing dinner tonight.”

Cas looked at Dean. Probably they should just lay low this evening. Rest up so they could get an early start for the long drive home tomorrow. Dean chewed his lip for a moment. “Let’s do Antonio’s tonight.”

Mae beamed. “I can call right now and get you a reservation.”

*

Working with what clean clothes they had left, they dressed for dinner in their dress shirts and nicest jeans. Luckily they’d stashed all the muddy things from last night in the closet since the bed was now freshly made with the pillows (and probably the dreaded top sheet) neatly replaced. If Dean wasn’t mistaken, the flowers had been given a fresh vase of water as well. The curtains were again tied back and Dean admired the view of the lawn while he waited for Cas to finish getting changed.

“Ready?”

Dean turned and found Cas in a blue button-down shirt. To his credit, he didn’t find himself staring at Cas’s mouth but only because he was too busy watching Cas roll up his sleeves.

Mae practically whooshed them out the door but she did pull Dean aside long enough to tell him that she’d taken the liberty of letting the restaurant know it was their anniversary. Dean thanked her and probably took the entire thing too far by pulling her into a hug.

“What was that all about?” Cas asked.

“I think we’re getting free stuff,” Dean said happily.

At Antonio’s, Dean held the door open for Cas, then walked him toward the hostess with a hand at the small of his back. With a sigh of relief Dean saw that it wasn’t super fancy, although white tablecloths and candles on each table elevated it several levels above the places they usually went. It was the kind of place he used to take Lisa on their occasional date nights when he lived with her.

“Winchester, party of two,” he told the hostess.

She smiled at them, gathering up two leather bound menus. “Right this way, sirs.” She led them to a table tucked away in the corner and waited for them to sit. Instinctively, Cas moved around the table so that Dean could have the seat that kept his back to the wall. Once they were seated, she stood with the menus until Cas followed Dean’s lead and shook open the ornately folded napkin to put on his lap. Then she handed them each a menu. “I understand it’s a special occasion this evening.”

Dean nearly reached for Cas’s hand, but stopped himself because _Jesus Christ get a grip_. “It’s our anniversary.”

Cas, who was sitting to his left, looked up from the menu and nodded at her. “It is.”

“We’ll start you off with a celebratory drink then.” She proceeded to tell them about the specials and assured them that their server would be with them shortly.

Cas flipped through the menu then leaned over to Dean. “These prices are rather high.”

Yeah, they were. And there’s no way Sam wasn’t going to see this bill when he tracked their cards online. But it was worth it to see Cas without that pinched crease between his brows. “Look, sometimes when you’ve had a shitty day like we had, you need a good meal and a stiff drink.”

At that moment, a petite dark-haired young woman appeared with two glasses filled with champagne. Inside each one, a single raspberry sat at the bottom of the glass, fizzing relentlessly. She introduced herself as Janine. “Happy anniversary,” she said with complete sincerity, setting down the glasses.

(Honestly, Dean thought, the biggest surprise of the day wasn’t the lack of anything supernatural but the kind reception a couple of supposedly gay guys were getting in Idaho.)

Once they'd ordered and were alone again, Dean picked up his glass. “Not exactly a stiff drink, but hey, it’s free.” He clinked his glass against Cas’s and they both drank. The bubbles assaulted Dean’s nose before he could even get a sip and he nearly sneezed champagne onto both of them.

Cas, however, seemed charmed by it and he turned the glass in his long fingers to watch the bubbles ascend. He sipped at it happily and when he finished his, Dean slid his half-full glass over.

By the time the bread basket arrived, Cas had polished off Dean’s drink as well, and Dean had ordered himself a beer. The warm, crusty bread was followed by big, steaming bowls of pasta and, just when Dean thought he couldn’t manage another bite, Janine stopped by to inform them that she’d be out with their complimentary dessert next.

Cas’s hand was resting on the table and Dean covered it with his own, smiling brightly at him before turning back to the waitress. “That’s very kind of you.”

She gathered up their plates and it was the perfect time for Dean to move his hand but he just...didn’t. They weren’t holding hands, but Cas’s hand felt so warm underneath his and he liked the way they looked together. It would be nothing to interlace their fingers and…

Dean felt the weight of Cas’s stare and he looked up. He knew the restaurant was bustling around them—diners talking and eating, servers delivering dishes, soft music playing—but all of that faded away until there was nothing but Cas. Cas with his blue eyes and his soft smile and the way he looked at Dean like Dean was his free dessert. As Dean watched, Cas opened his mouth to say something but just then Janine returned holding a plate in one hand. Her other hand was cupped around a lit candle.

She set the plate on the table between them, laying down two fresh forks as well. A big slab of cocoa-dusted tiramisu was topped by a flickering candle and _Happy Anniversary_ was written in chocolate sauce on the plate. “Happy anniversary. Would you like me to take a picture?”

“Yes, please.” Cas pulled his hand out from Dean’s and dug his phone out of his pocket.

Dean dropped his hand to his lap and flexed his fingers a few times around empty air, trying to decide if Cas’s haste to get a picture was nothing more than the easiest excuse he could come up with to disentangle them. But Janine was holding up the phone and gesturing for them to move a little closer, so he leaned in and smiled brightly. She took a few more then handed Cas his phone back.

He paused with the fork in his hand. “You wanna blow this candle out?”

Cas was still scrolling through the pictures and he barely looked up. “Go ahead.”

Shrugging, Dean blew out the candle then dug into it with his fork. He’d never had tiramisu before but he’d watched enough cooking shows to know it was cake and coffee and chocolate and cream, so he was sold already. “Oh my God.” It was creamy and delicious, rich but not overly sweet.

Cas looked up from where he was using two fingers to zoom in.

“I’ll eat the whole thing if you’re too busy looking at pictures of me when I’m sitting right here,” he teased.

Cas smiled and put his phone away. Instead of reaching for his fork, he plucked the candle out and brought it to his mouth to lick off the cream. Watching him, something sharp jolted through the light fuzziness Dean had gotten from the alcohol, and he felt more sober than he’d ever been in his life. “Mmmm,” Cas agreed, licking a stray bit from his upper lip.

Dean tried to distract himself with another bite. “Good thing she left or we’d probably have to feed each other or something.”

“I’ve always wondered why humans do that,” Cas mused, using the side of his fork to scrape up the chocolate lettering. “I suppose it has something to do with infantilizing one’s partner in order to care for them.”

Dean stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I...never thought about it that way.”

“Human mating rituals are strange,” Cas said. “The animal kingdom seems a lot less complicated.”

 _You don’t fucking say_ Dean thought as he tried to reconcile the seeming multitude of feelings he had regarding his best friend/ex-angel/hunting partner/savior/confusingly-hot guy.

Honestly, it was a relief when the bill arrived.

*

Mae greeted them when they returned and they both thanked her profusely for her assistance with the reservation. When Cas whipped out his phone to show her their picture, she literally put a hand to her chest and cooed at it.

“Let me see that.” Dean pulled the phone from his hand and studied it. They sat leaning into each other, the celebratory plate in front of them. Dean was smiling widely, like he hadn’t just been having a crisis a moment before. Cas’s expression was softer, but there was no mistaking the happiness on his face. Dean had to hand it to them, they looked like a couple. “Send me that,” he told Cas, because it seemed like the thing to say.

Locking the front door behind them, Mae shooed them off toward their room. Dean’s phone chimed with the receipt of the text message before they were through the parlor.

Back in the room, Cas seemed thrilled to discover that Mae had placed the bottle of champagne from their welcome basket into a silver ice bucket.

Dean heaved a pretend sigh at his enthusiasm. “You want me to see if Mae has some raspberries laying around in the kitchen?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Cas worked to peel the foil off of the stopper, then squinted at the wire cage.

Amused, Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched. “You know how to do that, big guy?”

“Theoretically, yes.” He studied the bottle some more, touching it gently like it might explode which, come to think of it, was an actual concern. “In practicality, no.”

“Give it here.” Dean pulled it from him, like he had the phone. Somewhere over the past couple of days, he’d stopped waiting for Cas to pass him things, instead reaching for his hands unselfconsciously. He’d only opened a couple of these, but he wasn’t about to tell Cas that. With more confidence than he felt, he untwisted the wire cage then angled the bottle away from the two of them. “Stand back,” he instructed, but then he stopped. Every place he looked seemed destined to become an easily-shattered target range and he wondered how many knick knacks he could take out with a single, ricocheting cork.

Cas followed him into the bathroom, watching as Dean tugged the shower curtain part way around the clawfoot tub. Convinced that he had a secure landing spot, Dean used his thumbs to wriggle out the cork. With a satisfying pop, it sailed out to bounce off the curtain and tumble into the tub. Dean quickly righted the bottle so that he didn’t spill even a drop.

It was no grenade launcher, but Dean was pretty pleased with himself, even more so when he saw Cas admiring him with shining eyes. Embarrassed, he muttered, “Should’a known you wouldn’t be a cheap date.”

Cas poured them each a glass and they settled into the armchairs to sip it. It was less sweet than the champagne they’d had at the restaurant and, while Dean didn’t know if that meant one was fancier than the other, he liked the crisp taste of this. Not that he’d be giving up beer anytime soon. This was a treat, nothing more. He looked at Cas who seemed to be savoring every bubbly drop. Champagne was probably closer to whatever Godly nectar he was accustomed to than anything he’d found on earth so far. Spending all his time with Sam and Dean wasn’t exactly showing him the best of what it meant to be human. Saddled with them, the poor guy’s life was dirty and rough, scrabbling to get from one shitty diner meal to the next. No wonder Cas was so taken with this weekend; he’d finally gotten a taste of what the good life looked like. Returning to the Winchester’s fucked up version of normal was going to bring its own form of culture shock.

Still, right now it was easy to pretend that this was their life. In this place where everything was pretty and smelled good, the room was warm and softly lit. With nothing to hunt or kill, it was nice to relax in these luxuriously comfortable chairs. Dean had his every need catered to: delicious food, special shampoo, a bed piled high with pillows. He couldn’t deny there was something wholly satisfying at watching Cas discover new things, especially when Dean was the one to introduce him to them. He had nearly everything he could wish for. Nearly.  

Maybe that’s why, when Cas leaned over to pour the last of the bottle into his glass, Dean kissed him.

 

He hadn’t meant to, at least not consciously. At least not _consciously_ consciously. It’s just that the urge to do that was always there lately, simmering under his skin anytime they were close and alone.

They kissed until Cas pulled back and Dean froze in place, watching to see his response. Then, in what felt like slow motion, Cas set down the glass he’d been holding and reached for Dean with both hands. He touched his face gently, trailing fingers along his cheekbone. As Dean watched, Cas slowly wet his lips. Dean leaned toward him, and that’s all it took. In a flurry of motion he pulled Dean up from his chair to crush their mouths together again. There was no time to talk, no time to think, and Dean felt Cas’s name like a chant inside his head, repeating with every beat of his heart. Somehow they staggered toward the bed, hands roaming. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean like he would never let him go, and Dean smoothed his hands up and down Cas’s back, trying to touch every part of him at once. In the next moment they were on the bed, pulling back the comforter and, even then, Dean’s brain noticed the lack of the top sheet and how convenient it was that they could get right under the covers. It was a stupid thought, one that came out of nowhere and it didn’t disappear until Cas began to kiss down his neck, leaving a hot trail.

Dean found himself on his back with Cas leaning over him and nothing else registered but the glorious feel of Cas’s mouth on Dean’s skin, the rough prickle of stubble against his own, and the delicious weight of Cas's body half on top of him. Dean let his hands move from Cas’s shoulders to his waist and further down, cupping his ass through his jeans. When Dean tugged him down, pulling their hips flush, Cas moaned a little into Dean’s neck. When Cas began to unbutton his shirt, Dean nearly gasped at the touch of his long fingers on his bare chest. It felt so good that Dean relinquished his hold and slid his hands up and under the hem of Cas’s shirt to feel the smooth, muscular expanse of his back.

Cas kissed him again as he worked and when he’d undone the last button, he pulled back to rest on one elbow and gaze down Dean. Even in the soft light of the bedside lamp, It was too much to be looked at that way so Dean arched upward enough to get his mouth on Cas’s collarbone which he was quickly freeing from the confines of his shirt.

To have both of them shirtless felt like a revelation. Cas responded to the slightest touch of his nipples, and the little gasp he gave made Dean’s cock harden. Never before had Dean appreciated the line of a sternum or the firm expanse of pectorals and he let his hands and mouth explore every inch fully. Cas returned the favor, pressing Dean back down and trailing a hand from his jaw, along his throat to his chest. He followed it, kissing a path from Dean’s neck downward. Breath ragged, Dean tangled his hands in Cas’s hair as he moved to dip his tongue in Dean’s belly button.

When Cas finally brushed his palm over Dean’s crotch, a switch flipped in Dean’s brain, and suddenly he needed to do more, to _give_ more. Cas had given him so many things and had given up so much for him. He’d done more than Dean couldn’t ever hope to repay, but this... _this_ he knew how to do. He tugged Cas up and kissed away the confused look on his face, then rolled him over onto his back. Straddling one of Cas’s thighs, he lightly sucked at one nipple, teasing over the front of his jeans with his hand.  With calculated slowness, he increased the pressure to palm and massage at the hardness there until Cas squirmed under his touch. Relentlessly, he flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple as he undid Cas’s fly, and nearly got lightheaded when Cas gasped out his name. Rocking up onto his knees, he kissed him hard on the mouth. “I got you.”

He pushed Cas’s jeans down over his hips. It wasn’t ideal, but there was no way he was giving up contact with him long enough to get them all the way off. He trailed his fingertips lightly along the waistband of his underwear, darting his tongue along the edge there until he reached the sharp jut of his hipbone. He fit his mouth around it, tracing it with his tongue, memorizing the shape of it, finally able to touch what he’d stared at from afar for so long.

When he realized Cas was grasping at the sheet with his fists, he finally freed his cock and gave himself a moment to admire the way it curved up towards his belly, thick and heavy. It had been a while since he’d done this, but the moment it was in his mouth, Dean remembered why he loved it. There was something about knowing exactly how good it felt that made it powerful to do for someone else. He had no idea what Cas liked so he experimented, alternating long licks up the length of the shaft with light kisses along the head. Cas writhed a little under his touch, his breath hitching, and Dean found himself grinding down against the firm expanse of Cas’s thigh between his legs. His brain felt soaked in a fog of pleasure: the sounds Cas was making, the feeling of his cock filling Dean’s mouth, the delicious friction on his crotch. With one hand, he reached to fondle Cas’s balls, gently rolling the weight there. With the other, he opened up his own jeans and began to stroke himself.

Cas thrust up into his mouth, tentatively first and then more confidently when Dean moaned. The salty taste of pre-come flooded his tongue and he lapped it, working his hand faster, feeling his own pleasure grow. When Cas grabbed at his hair, twisting and tugging, Dean sucked hard and groaned, gasping as he spilled over his fist. To make up for his panting mouth, he got a hand on Cas’s cock and it was only a few strokes later that Cas went rigid before coming in hot pulses onto his own stomach.

Dean loosened his grip as Cas softened, his forehead pressed against Cas’s hip while he regained his breath. Cas’s hands relaxed in Dean’s hair until he was almost petting him. Dean chanced a glance at him, and he was flushed and beautiful, his eyes unfocused with pleasure. Dean felt pride swell in his chest at being able to do this for him. When Cas met his gaze, there was such a look of sweetness there, such adoration, that Dean suddenly went shy.

“I’ll go get a towel.” He climbed awkwardly off the bed, his legs a little stiff from being folded under him. In the bathroom he found a hand towel and turned on the water to let it warm. Rinsing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked loose and relaxed. He looked _happy_. Almost immediately the doubt began to replace the warmth in his chest.

There was no coming back from this. What were they going to do now? Hold hands on hunts? Be boyfriends? That’s not how this worked. It was a mistake letting things get this far out of hand. Whatever had been building between them was out now. They’d cleared out the tension, blown off some steam. Things had to go back to normal now. It was the only way.

He stood there stuck in the loop of his own thoughts until he heard Cas call to him.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned off the water. He’d let Cas know all this in the morning. They both needed to sleep before the long drive back to the bunker.

Only Dean should have known better (in fact, that should be the title of his pathetic autobiography) because once they were cleaned up and Cas had followed Dean’s lead and changed into pajamas, Cas wrapped all around him, burying his face in Dean’s neck and hugging him close. He didn’t seem to notice that Dean barely touched him back or that he lay awake staring at the ceiling long after Cas fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t that Dean _snuck_ out of bed. It’s just that when he woke first with the early morning light streaming into the room, he gave himself exactly thirty seconds to admire the way the light fell on Cas’s face and the way his lashes made shadows on his cheek before he put a stop to it. He could have kept that, could have had the view of Cas just inches away if he’d left well enough alone, could’ve had these moments to stare and appreciate, even if it meant living with the longing that had threatened to kill and consume him. But now he’d ruined everything and there was nothing for him to do but quietly and carefully disentangle himself from the suffocating hold Cas had on him, grab clothes (seriously, fuck having to open heavy wooden dresser drawers when he could’ve noiselessly rooted around in his duffel like he’d done a million times before), and tiptoe into the bathroom to shower.

He’d mastered getting into the tub by now, maintaining his balance while stepping over the tall edge. The water was hot but it seemed nothing could wash away his memories of Cas’s skin, the firm feel of his thighs, and the taste of him on Dean’s tongue. He sighed and finished his shower, turning the water to run cold at the end until he felt sufficiently numbed and ready to face his day. He jerked the curtain open and reached for a towel, swearing when he banged his shin hard against the tub as he stepped out. He dried and dressed and stood staring at the bathroom door. He couldn’t hear anything from the room, but with these stupid solid wooden doors, who the hell knew what was happening out there.

He couldn’t stay in here forever so he took a few deep breaths and turned the knob. Cas was awake and he pushed himself up on one elbow at Dean’s appearance. He looked warm and sleep-rumpled and it was a thousand times worse now that Dean knew what it was to run his hands through his hair. The covers dropped from his chest and Dean was able to make out a dark mark on his collarbone and he was hit with the visceral memory of how it had felt when he scraped his teeth over it. When he finally dragged his gaze back to Cas’s face, he was smiling tentatively. It was that hesitant smile that broke something in Dean because it told him that Cas fully expected him to be an asshole about this whole thing and well, Dean was always one to live up to people’s shitty expectations.

“Hey,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize. “I’ll let Mae know we’re up. We need to eat and get on the road.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Cas’s face went blank which was somehow more painful than if he’d gotten upset.

Dean left the room and pulled the door shut behind him. He stood with his back pressed against the wall in the hallway while a wave of some sort of emotion he didn’t want to analyze threatened to overwhelm him. It could’ve been regret. Or guilt. Whatever it was, it cut hard aided by a heavy dose of self-loathing. But he’d been in situations like this before so he grit his teeth and waited for it to pass, waited until his breathing had steadied. He needed to shove this down deep enough that it wouldn’t come bubbling back up, burning him from the inside like lava.

He made his way to the front of the inn to let Mae know they were up and then he walked slowly back to their room. He waited in the hallway until he heard the sound of the shower running before going inside to pack up all his things, taking his bag with him when he hurried back out again. He carried it straight out the front door to deposit it directly in the Impala’s trunk. The drive back was going to be awkward enough, there was no reason to open himself up to Cas trying to start some sort of conversation before that. Especially not in the privacy of that room with the bed right there like it ought to have crime scene tape wrapped around it.

Dean was sitting with a cup of coffee in the breakfast room when Mae bustled into the room with two plates.

“Waffles, as promised!” She set down their plates then pointed out the toppings already on the table. “Butter, maple syrup, fresh berries...would you boys like whipped cream?”

“Uh,” Dean began, because he honestly didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a tricky question, but suddenly he didn’t know if he should answer for himself or see what Cas wanted and either way he should probably know this by now.

Just then Cas emerged. Dean could only manage a quick glance at him without a twist in his chest, but he could see that Cas looked pale and that his mouth was pressed together in a tight line. “Dean likes whipped cream,” he said simply.

Despite having clamped everything down, Dean felt like shit so he pressed it down even further and decided to go back to what he knew. He turned to Mae with a bright, knowing smile. “He’s right, I do.”

Which was a mistake because that meant  Mae left the room to fetch it, leaving Dean chilled by the silence creeping between them. To combat it, when Mae returned with a bowl of what had to be freshly whipped cream, Dean encouraged her to join them. She looked pleased.

Dean stuffed the aching emptiness inside him with crisp, golden waffles. He made a show of spooning on lots of toppings and eating with great gusto. Cas ate a little of his, but it was clear that he he had no enthusiasm for it.

Mae looked at his plate and then between the two of them. “Would you like something different, dear? I could make you some eggs.”

Cas kept his eyes on his plate and it was Dean who answered, leaning in toward Mae conspiratorially.  “Somebody had a little too much champagne last night. He’ll be fine again in a bit.”

Cas dropped his fork with a rattling clatter. Dean gripped his coffee cup tightly and prayed he wasn’t going to get his ass chewed out right here in this breakfast room. He deserved it, all right, but this nice lady didn’t need to get dragged into their bullshit. Glaring coldly at Dean, Cas said, “He’s right. I’ll be fine.”

Dean managed a small smile at that. Excellent. He could be mad all he wanted, but this was the Winchester way. No time for emotions or entanglements. Not even with your best friend. One who saved you again and again in every way imaginable. Because that right there was the problem: they would never be on equal footing. Dean might not be smart, but he knew Cas would eventually come to his senses and realize what a mistake he’d made thinking Dean could give him what he deserved. No point in either of them getting their hopes up in the meantime. They just needed to get on the road and get back to the bunker where they could give each other a little bit of breathing room and everything could go back to normal.

In fact, it was probably better this way. They’d gotten whatever that was out of their system and now they could move forward without that distraction hanging over them. It was a cleansing, really. A fresh start. Dean finished his coffee with a loud slurp. “We should probably get going. Long drive ahead of us.”

Mae sighed. “I do hate to see you go. It was nice not being alone at night, especially with that awful thing happening here.”

With the mention of the case that'd brought them there, Dean felt an extra layer of shame for having deceived her all this time. He shook his head sadly. “Terrible. But I thought I heard someone say they’d caught who did it? Down in Utah?” The least he could do was give her a little reassurance where the serial killer was concerned.

She perked up a bit at that. “I hope you’re right. Poor Mary Jane. They were the sweetest couple. Always seemed so happy together.” She held up a finger of warning. “Don’t take your time for granted, you two. Sometimes you get decades, sometimes only hours. That’s why you have to cherish what you have.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “Doing my best.”

There was a loud scrape as Cas pushed back his chair. “I’ll get my things.”

Because Dean’s life sucked, there was yet another round of goodbyes in the lobby. “You come back any time.” Mae hugged them each in turn. “And don’t forget that cabin in Wyoming. It’s yours any time. Just call. Do you have my number?”

 _Jesus, lady, the internet is a thing_. Antsy to leave, Dean had to stop himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You gave us that whole folder.” It was somewhere in the car still, ready for the first trash can he could find.

When they finally got into the car, the slam of Cas’s door felt like the final nail in a coffin.

They hadn’t even gotten to the highway when Cas turned to him and asked quietly, “Did I do something wrong?”

Dean grit his teeth because it was all his fault that Cas was sitting there looking miserable and doubting himself. “No.” He couldn’t help the loud sigh that escaped in. Nor could he miss the way Cas flinched back a little at it. “No, that….happened but now it’s time to get back to real life.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas twisting his hands together in his lap. “But, Dean--”

Dean smacked at the steering wheel sharply. “Lot of driving to do. We’re not on vacation anymore, ok? Time to move on.”

The long drive home was exactly as terrible as Dean knew it would be. The more Dean tried to be chipper and nonchalant, the more he could feel Cas retreat into himself. Dean kept the music blaring, singing and whistling along whenever he sensed Cas getting up the nerve to say something and, with the pit of his stomach continuing to gnaw at him, he successfully kept any real conversation at bay.  

Even though they weren’t on any sort of a schedule, Dean insisted on hitting a drive-through for lunch and eating in the car as the Impala continued to eat up the miles. All that so he wouldn’t have to sit across a goddamned diner table and face Cas. He was a coward and he knew it but honestly it was better for Cas to get the message now before he got himself in too deep. Dean knew exactly what he could and couldn’t give Cas. A no strings attached roll in the hay? Check. An adult conversation in broad daylight? Not so much.

Once or twice, as the road east stretched out before him, he thought maybe he should try to explain. Maybe he could play this off as a human thing, one that Cas didn’t have experience with. _These things happen sometimes and they’re no big deal_ he’d say.

But Cas had never been one for rolling with things he didn’t understand. Even one sentence like that was opening himself up for God knew how many questions about relationships and sex and _feelings,_ and that was a can of worms best left not just unopened but locked away in a basement somewhere. He should’ve known better than to let this happen with Sam so far away.

Of course, none of this would’ve happened if Sam had been there. They would’ve found a dumpy motel where they would’ve slept in separate, terrible beds and everything would’ve stayed separate and terrible just the way it always had. Now Dean was stuck with the knowledge that A) motel beds were really, really crappy and B) Cas really knew what to do with his tongue. Both of these facts were going to stick with him for a good long time.

Come to think of it, this was all Sam’s fault.

Sam had laughed about it because it was ludicrous that they’d been there in the first place. The joke wasn’t the bed and breakfast, it was _Dean_ at the bed and breakfast. Ok, very funny, ha-fucking-ha. How the hell had Dean ended up being the only mature one out of the group? You’d think a guy who went to Stanford and an angel of the motherfucking Lord might be able to make a solid, rational decision but no. Cas had looked at him with those big, blue eyes and Sam had egged him on over the phone instead of talking him out of it. The two of them would probably have a good laugh behind Dean’s back about the whole thing when they got home.

Yes, this whole thing was definitely Sam’s fault.

The thought of his brother made him feel better. It wasn’t that he was leaving Cas hanging, he was taking Cas back to the bunker where he could talk through all of this with Sam. Even knowing Sam would find out what had happened wasn’t enough to diminish the flare of hope that Cas could deal with this without Dean having to be involved. Look at all he’d done for that overgrown moose over the years. Cleaning up Dean’s mess was nothing more than a little payback.

Assessing the situation, he took a bite of his sad, fast food burger which repaid him by dripping mustard onto his shirt. He’d had let himself get greedy. That stupid room was like some sort of mind control what with its luxury and pampering and make believe nonsense. It wasn’t his fault that he’d basically been brainwashed into thinking he’d belonged in a place like that...or that Cas could really want him that way. Wiping at the stain on his shirt, Dean had no doubt that Cas, seeing Dean back in his natural grease-stained environment, had his own yawning chasm of regret.

Dean told himself that he was simply doing his part to make it easy on the guy. Cas had no experience with this type of thing so why not teach him the Winchester way: Compartmentalize and ye shall forget. It was a lesson that had gotten Dean far over the years. He took another messy bite of burger and chewed it aggressively. He could almost feel the disappointment and disgust radiating from the passenger seat. Good. Cas needed that reminder of exactly what he’d get with Dean: Someone who might save your life but would still manage to let you down.

If he hadn’t been driving, he would’ve slammed his forehead against the steering wheel. A weekend at a bed and breakfast. What the fuck had he been thinking? Dean had rules about these things and Cas kept sidling up, squinting those blue eyes, and making Dean forget them.

Now Cas and Sam would sit together, side-eyeing him every time he walked into a room. They’d shake their heads softly and share knowing looks about what an idiot he was. Cas would go back to giving him that look like he couldn’t understand why they were sharing the same oxygen and Sam would, oh Jesus, Sam would want to _talk_ about the whole thing.

Not.

Happening.

This never-ending drive reminded Dean exactly why he kept his sex life separate from everything else. Because generally when he left after hooking up, he wasn’t stuck with his partner riding in the seat next to him for hours on end. They didn’t come along with him to the place they both lived, where there was no other choice but to see them day in and day out.This was all too complicated. Too tangled up with details and connections and obligations that were bound to go wrong. Yes, it was convenient to have Cas _right there_ whether there meant down the hall or in the back seat or across the table. He’d gotten so used to Cas being _right there_ that he’d let himself get too comfortable, too trusting.

Dean just needed time for this whole thing to blow over. Time for the twenty-four hour This is your Life news cycle to move on to the next headline. He could help that along by removing himself from the equation. Even better, he could push things forward by finding a new hunt for them to focus on. That one was a no-brainer. Sick of this story? Create your own narrative. As soon as they got back, while his laundry was still in the washer, he’d do a quick look for a lead, anything would do, no matter how vague. Then first thing tomorrow he’d be up and at ‘em. After a week or so, he could call for back up and they could all start fresh with a new point of focus.

Breathing room. That’s what they needed.

He glanced over at Cas who was pretending to be asleep. Dean could tell the difference now that he’d spent two nights (plus a nap) in a bed with him. His jaw was too tight and his breathing too measured. When Cas was really asleep, his lips parted softly and his face relaxed. He made a tiny sound somewhere between a sigh and a snore. Dean remembered the feel of Cas’s warm breath on his neck and the way he—

A horn honk had him darting his eyes forward as he swerved back into his own lane. Cas startled in his seat at the sudden noise and movement. Dean tightened his grip on the wheel and kept his eyes on the road.

They didn’t speak for the next four hours.

*

Cas was out of the car before Dean had even shut off the engine. He grabbed his bag from the back seat and took off out of the garage. Dean banged his forehead against the steering wheel for good measure before getting out of the car himself. Sam was in the doorway by the time he had his own duffel out of the trunk.

“Hey, welcome back.”

“Hey, Sam.”

“Cas ok? He barely said a word to me.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, it was a long drive is all.”

Sam frowned. “He seemed upset.”

“I dunno, man. I think the whole serial killer thing kind of threw him.”

Sam nodded his understanding. “I can see where it might.”

“Right up your twisted little alley, though, huh?” Dean was saved from elaborating any further about their trip while Sam went on and on about how this killer compared to other known serial killers. He didn’t stop talking until Dean excused himself to take a shower and climb into bed.

*

He woke the next morning, happy and content in his own bed. For at least four seconds. Then the relief at being in his own comfortable surroundings was quickly overlaid by a weird, unexpected wave of loneliness. The moment he remembered what had happened he pulled his pillow over his face and laid there, waiting to feel less blindsided. He laid there motionless with the pillow muffling his breathing until he’d formulated his plan for escape. Unfortunately, he’d neglected to do any laundry last night (he was tired, ok? It had nothing to do with not wanting to risk running into Cas in the halls) so, unless Sam had taken pity on him and done it while they were gone, he was going to have to wait until later to leave.

Not surprisingly, Dean’s dirty laundry sat exactly where he’d left it before they’d headed to Idaho.

“Coffee first,” he muttered to himself. If he stood at his door listening for footsteps before opening it quietly and peeking out the crack, well, that was called being a considerate bunker-mate. Apparently didn’t matter, though, because he could see from his doorway that Cas’s door was already open.

Fine. He could do this. He could get through one day of pretending he didn’t see Cas looking at him mournfully. There was nothing Cas could throw at him that he didn’t already blame himself for so it shouldn’t be long before Cas would get over it and they could get back to normal. He’d always have the memories of that night at least. If he could get to the point where thinking about it didn’t steal the breath out of his lungs.

Pulse stuttering, he strode into the kitchen with his shoulders back and his head held high. Playing the part was at least half the battle. But only Sam was there and he felt his shoulders droop as he made his way to the coffee. He poured himself a mug from the mostly-full pot and steadfastly did not think about little china pitchers of rich cream. In fact, despite knowing there was milk in the fridge, he drank it black.

He was mostly through his first cup when something that was itching at the back of his brain caught up with him. “This a second pot?” It wasn’t unusual for one of them to brew another pot on a day when they were all home. Cas, particularly, required a heavy dose in the mornings.

Sam didn’t even look up from his computer. “No, I just made it.”

Dean ignored the tiny flare of concern he felt. Cas was a big boy. He’d be fine. “You want eggs?”

“I ate. Cas might, though.”

“You wanna go ask him?” Dean held the pan and one hand and a spatula in the other to show just how busy he was and how walking down the hall would certainly inconvenience him.

Sam rolled his eyes but he got up and left the kitchen. He was gone a suspiciously long time and, as Dean flipped the first of the two fried eggs, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Maybe Cas was right now telling Sam what had happened.

He heard one set of footsteps heading toward the kitchen and then Sam was back. “Cas say anything about going somewhere today?”

Dean flipped the second egg and watched as the yolk oozed all over the hot pan. “Nope.”

“Well maybe he went out for something, then.” He sat back at the table and resumed his typing.

“Maybe.” Dean scraped the mess of eggs onto a plate. It would taste fine. He didn’t need fancy omelettes. Food was about getting calories in. Everything else was trappings: nice to look at, sure, but totally unnecessary. To convince himself, he tugged at the shoulder of his t-shirt and used it to wipe his mouth. When Sam glared at him, Dean responded by chewing exaggeratedly with his mouth open.

“You’re a child.” Sam slapped his computer shut before picking it up and leaving Dean to shovel in eggs alone. He managed exactly three more bites before he succumbed to the urge to check his phone for a text from Cas. There were no notifications on the homescreen but he unlocked it anyhow and went to his texts. The very first thing he saw was the picture Cas had sent him from the restaurant.

He should close his phone right back up again. Clear the screen and shove it right back into his pocket. Instead, he tapped on it to make it bigger. Cas looked...happy. He was leaning in toward Dean and while his smile may have seemed measured to anyone else, Dean could see the softness in his eyes. It was a gentle smile that Dean had grown accustomed to, one he prided himself in eliciting from Cas. It was a look of contentment that reassured Dean that he’d be sticking around for awhile. A look that usually left Dean feeling warm inside. Right now, though, the very sight of it made breakfast lurch in his stomach. He pushed the rest of his plate away, uneaten. The eggs were gloppy and unappetizing.

He held down his finger on their picture but instead of deleting it, he saved it to his phone. Then he opened up the program to locate Cas’s phone. It was going to be awkward as fuck to face him today so maybe having an idea of where he was and when he’d be back would give him some time to prepare. With a sickening chill he found that Cas had switched off his GPS.

“Goddammit,” he hissed, although it’s not like Dean could blame him. Not when Cas had basically implemented the patented Dean Winchester Avoidance Strategy. He’d learned so well from his teacher that he’d beaten Dean to it by a mere matter of hours. Well, at least it wouldn’t be awkward around the bunker. Dean dumped his dishes in the sink and went to start his laundry.

*

He sat staring at the washer. There wasn’t even a spinning window to watch but he liked having the white noise of the machine to insulate him from his thoughts, at least for a short while. Then his mind played him a series of pictures, one right after the next. Cas leaning in to kiss him. Cas lying shirtless on the bed, his hair going in ten different directions. Cas rolling onto his side to wrap his arms around Dean. It was everything Dean had wanted for as long as he could remember, and it scared him in a way that no hellhound or demon ever had.

It had been so easy to pretend they were a couple. The words of endearment and causal touches had flowed effortlessly, like he hadn’t even been playing the part. He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

He roused himself from being hypnotized by the washer to walk past Cas’s open door. With the bed crisply made and all the surfaces clear, the room looked pristine. He wondered if any of his clothes were still there, but he wasn’t brave enough to step inside and open one of the drawers. He went back to the laundry room to move his clothes to the dryer and numbly sit there some more.

He was still sitting there when Sam came to find him. At the sound of his name, he realized the dryer had finished but he didn’t remember having heard the buzzer. Hurriedly, he stood and began pulling the cooling clothes out and into the basket.

“Hey, Dean.” He leaned against the laundry room doorway in a suspiciously casual pose, and Dean knew the shit was about to hit the fan.

Dean kept his eyes on the t-shirt he was folding. “Yeah.”

“Any idea why Cas would’ve turned off his GPS?”

Dean shook out a balled up sock. It was still damp in the middle. Awesome. “I’m not in charge of him.”

“Huh.” Sam folded his arms across his chest and put on the fakest confused face Dean had ever seen. “Because when I saw that he’d done that, I texted him.”

Dean made a noncommittal sound and stacked up his jeans.

“And _he_ said I should ask _you._ ”

“Did he now.” Dean picked up his basket full of clean clothes and moved toward the door. His brother continued to take up most of the doorway with his freakishly large body. Dean glared at him, but he didn’t budge. “Get out of my way, Sam.”

“How about you tell me what you did, instead.”

Dean bristled. “Why do you assume it was something I did?” It was always something he did, but that didn’t mean Sam could get away with assuming it.

“So, you’re saying you didn’t do anything.”

Since there was no good answer to that, Dean pushed at him with the basket until he finally cleared out of the way. But apparently that wasn’t enough of a _leave me alone_ hint because he shadowed him back to his room, following him in before Dean could close the door.

“Look, Dean. You don’t have to tell me anything--”

“Damn right I don’t.” Dean slammed the basket down onto his dresser and Sam pursed his lips in that way that made him look like a teacher Dean had had in one of his fifth grade classes. Birmingham, maybe.

“All I’m saying is that he seems pretty upset and maybe you should try…” he trailed off a little waiting for Dean to pounce, then finished in a rush, “talking to him.”

At that, the confrontation drained out of him and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t think he’ll talk to me.”

Sam winced. “That bad?” All Dean could do was nod.  “Maybe face to face would help?”

“I don’t even know where he went. He could’ve gone off in any direction.” Dean slumped, defeated. “Other than poof off to heaven or hitchhike a ride on a meteor--” His eyes went wide. “Wait, I think maybe I do. Let me make a call.”

In the garage, he studiously avoided looking at where the Continental should be parked and opened the Impala door. The folder was there and he pulled out the brochure. In no time, Mae had answered the phone. “Hi, Mae, this is Dean Winchester.”

“Hello! Tell me, did you find the place ok? I know it can be tricky.”

Something inside of Dean gave way in relief. “Yeah, actually, that’s why I’m calling. I think we’re lost.”


	6. Chapter 6

Even though Mae had confirmed Cas’s destination,  Dean still let out a relieved sigh at the sight of Cas’s car parked in the driveway. Towering Ponderosa pines dwarfed the remote cabin which was set back from the small road. There was a long driveway that left plenty of room for Dean to pull in behind the Continental, and he only felt a little uneasy at boxing Cas in. If Cas really didn’t want to see him, he’d get right back in his car and drive home to Kansas. It wasn’t a big deal.

Despite being stiff from driving, Dean sat in the car. He knew he was the one at fault and that there was no way out of this situation without them having an actual discussion. As a concerned friend, it was up to Dean to get things back on track. The bed and breakfast had lulled both of them into thinking they could have something impossible. Maybe they hadn’t been able to resist it, but clarifying the mistake was something he should’ve done right away. Cas needed to understand that there was too much at stake for them to be _together_ together. Neither of them could risk the distraction, not when there was always something evil on the horizon waiting to come for them.

Of course Cas was confused. How could he understand Dean’s actions as anything other than the rejection they appeared to be? Maybe he could explain it so Cas would see that it wasn’t anything he’d done. These were Dean’s issues and he damn well knew it. _Oh great Winchester, you’re really going to give him the_ it’s not you, it’s me _speech?_

The rough, rocky terrain of Wyoming drove home the reality of the situation. Harsh and windswept, clouds roiled overhead and the pine branches swayed in the increasing wind. From the car, Dean watched the cabin, but he couldn’t tell if any lights were on inside.

Sighing, he finally got out of the car and walked toward the door. While he hadn't pushed for details, Sam had suggested he give Cas a day and a night to cool off, so that’s what he’d done. Hopefully, with that time to himself to think, Cas might have come to some of these conclusions already.  He rapped on the door and waited, his heart pounding.

When the door opened and Cas stood there, whatever Dean had planned to say dried up because Cas looked like shit. His hair was a wreck, his stubble on the way to becoming an actual beard, and even though it was mid-afternoon he was still in a dirty t-shirt and pajama pants. When Dean finally braved eye contact, he saw the dark circles under Cas’s eyes. Dean swallowed hard as Cas stared at him, expressionless.

Before he could speak, a gust of wind tore through the trees shaking loose a large pine cone which skittered along the peaked roof then dropped to the ground near where he stood.

Faced with how terrible Cas looked, Dean blanked and went into default mode. He smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “You’d better hope one of those doesn’t fall on my car. Tree sap is a bitch to get off her finish.”

Cas slammed the door in his face.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Dean cursed his own idiocy. He hadn’t heard Cas stomping off so maybe he was still standing on the other side of the door, waiting for whatever Dean was going to do next. What _was_ Dean going to do next? Getting right back into the Impala and driving away sounded pretty damn good at the moment. Eventually, Cas would come back to the bunker and they could both pretend like this awkward little interlude had never happened. He’d definitely come back.

Eventually.

Probably.

Unless he was finally done with Dean, exhausted by his bullshit and his inability to open up even to the people he knew cared for him and maybe even loved him and—

He knocked again, holding his breath as he listened for any signs of Cas on the other side.

Cas opened the door again. He stood silently but there was a defiant set to his shoulders now and his eyes and jaw were sharp with anger.

“Can I come in?”

“Why?”

Dean sighed. “Look I drove seven hours to get here. Can I just come in?”

“Why?”

“Cas, c’mon.”

Cas folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want?”

If Dean could just get in the door, he’d feel a lot better about this whole thing. On the drive, he’d pictured the two of them sitting on a couch, a beer in his hand as he tried to explain. Ok, sure he hadn’t actually gotten to the point where he’d figured out exactly what words to use, but he wasn’t sure how to progress to that aspect of it if he couldn’t even literally get a foot in the door. “I want to talk, ok?”

Cas gestured expansively. “So talk.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before beginning. “Ok. So like. I know I messed this whole thing up. I should have explained things better and it’s not your fault that you don’t know how these things work and well, I could’ve done better with that.” He looked at Cas again, but his expression was unmoved.

A silence stretched between them. Dean could see now that Cas’s eyes looked glassy and, although his face was pale, his cheeks were flushed. He wondered if Cas had been drinking already this morning, but he couldn’t smell any alcohol on him.

“Is that it?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know. You know I’m not good at this stuff.” Dean tried to modulate his tone but he could hear the way his voice came out defensive. Yes, he’d messed up but maybe Cas could throw him a fucking lifeline here. Apparently, that was the wrong tactic to take.

“All right, then. You’ve said what you came to say?” Cas looked at him with raised eyebrows, expectant.

Even though Dean knew it was probably a trap, he didn’t know how else to respond so he nodded.

“Then you can go now.” He moved to shut the door but Dean got a foot in to keep it open.

“Cas, wait.”

“You came here, you said your piece, and now you need to leave.”

Dean waved a desperate hand between them. “Look, man, you know this isn’t my thing. I just wanted to make sure you were ok and…we good?” He tried a gentle smile, wishing he’d asked Sam to teach him the way of the puppy eyes.

“Oh yes, Dean. We’re better than good. We’re _great_.”

Alarm bells were starting to go off in Dean’s head, but he clung to the hope that Cas was finally cutting him a break. “So, I can—“

“You can drive off in your compensation of a car to engage in some self-destructive behaviors and we can go back to acting like nothing of substance ever occurred between us.” He gave Dean a sarcastic wink. “Just the way you like it.”

When Dean stepped back in surprise at the harsh edge to Cas’s words, Cas closed the door firmly.

After standing there for a moment, Dean got into the car, stopping just short of slamming the door. He started the engine and threw it into reverse to back down the driveway, squealing his tires when he swung out onto the road and accelerated away. He needed _something_ , he just didn’t know what. Sure, it was early, but he could find a bar or a liquor store. He could find a soft, willing companion to help him blow off some steam. He could do all those things he always did to forget and distract himself. But where would that get him? Right back where he’d always been. Alone and hungover and facing down yet another dose of regret. Worse than that, it would leave Cas self-righteous and gloating.

He was so far inside his own head that he didn’t notice he was coming up on a slow-moving log truck and had to step hard on the brake. When he did, a flash of white caught his eye as the folder from the bed and breakfast slid out from under the seat into the passenger footwell. With one hand on the wheel, he bent over to retrieve it and set it safely on the seat beside him. A brightly colored paper had worked its way partially out and he remembered Mae showing them the massage coupons.

He drove until he got a decent signal and then he pulled off the road. Sure enough there was a massage franchise less than ten miles away so he called and made an appointment, smug in his decision. A massage was how normal people relieved stress. He could be normal. Cas liked to act like he knew Dean best what with all that _I rebuilt you from the molecules up_ bullshit but he didn’t know him. Goddammit, he would use healthy coping mechanisms if it killed him.

The receptionist greeted him brightly when he arrived, offering him a cup of herbal tea which he accepted because _fuck you, Cas_. A tall brunette led him back to the small treatment room which was dominated by a padded table made up like a bed. Unlike the frilly decorations of the bed and breakfast, the décor was simple and soothing and, even though there was only one exit from the room, Dean felt more relaxed already. He smiled his most charming smile at the massage therapist, but she only looked at him with clinical professionalism.

“What is your goal for today’s massage?” she asked.

“Um,” he said, because he didn’t know there’d be a test and he was pretty sure making a happy ending joke would leave him out on the street. “Relaxation?”

She smiled and nodded so Dean knew that was an acceptable response. The type that a well-adjusted person would give. “I’ll step out so you can undress to your comfort level and get settled on the table. I’ll have you start face down.” She exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Dean began to strip off layers, tossing them onto the chair in the corner. He sat down to unlace his boots and pull them off, followed by his socks and jeans. He stood there for a long moment in just his underwear trying to decide what his comfort level was. The table looked soft and it was made up with sheets and a light blanket. He ran a hand over it, but it didn’t feel as soft and silky as the sheets had been on the bed in their room, nothing like the fluffy warmth of the down comforter, so smooth against his half-naked body. He stood there so long that the therapist knocked on the door and he had to call out for her to wait a minute.

Pulled out of his reverie, he climbed onto the table still in his underwear, his smallest knife tucked into the waistband. Awkwardly, he positioned himself onto his stomach and wedged his face into the donut shaped pillow. Lifting it up he called for her to come in before settling it back down again.

There was no talking as she began. Only some weird never-ending new age instrumental music that was piped softly into the room. She adjusted the blanket to expose his back, tucking it down around his hips before starting to work the knots out of his shoulders. Her hands were slick with some sort of lotion or oil and she pressed with surprising force as she dug the heel of her hand into the more stubborn spots. It felt good to have those muscles loosened but despite the dim lighting and the soft music and the gliding touch of her hands, he couldn’t quite relax. He had no reason to believe she was anything other than who she was, but still it nagged at him that maybe he should’ve tucked an additional weapon in with him. She moved to the back of his neck and, at the weight of her hand there, it was all he could do not to jerk away from her.

Here, face down and mostly undressed, he felt exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t when he was with Cas. Not that he’d been face down then. His eyes flew open at the very thought of that. As the massage therapist ran her hands in soothing strokes from his shoulder down to his waist, his mind slowly unfocused until he let his eyes fall closed again. Drifting a little, he sighed as she worked out the tightness in his lower back that plagued him nearly every morning. He imagined Cas’s hands smoothing down his sides, calming him even as he moved them lower and lower.

There was no way he could admit that he wanted that. Not to Cas, not to anyone. He could barely even admit it to himself. He’d been fucked a couple of times, but only ever with guys whose names he’d never learned in places he’d never return. Part of him ached to do it again, the right way. With someone he could trust. Maybe that would erase enough of the shame for him to really experience it. Cas wouldn’t judge him for it, he knew that. But Jesus, how much of his guts did he have to pour out just to be with the guy. It was too risky. Letting anybody know that he wasn’t the man’s man his father had trained him to be was as good as turning over all his weapons.

He thought again about the way he’d felt with Cas, tangled up with him in that room. He hadn’t had time to be scared because it had felt right in a way nothing else had in a very long time. When he was vulnerable, he knew Cas would have his back. That’s how he always felt with Cas whether it was a hunt, someone to listen to his dumb stories on an empty stretch of highway or, apparently, when they were both half-naked.

The massage therapist worked her way back up to his shoulders. Her touch was... _fine_. Her hands were warm as they smoothed across his skin, but there was nothing special in the way she moved from one part of his body to the other. It felt like she was checking them off a list which, to be fair, she probably was. Cas had touched him so tentatively at first, gaining confidence when Dean didn’t pull away, venturing more when Dean actually responded in kind. It made Dean feel…worthy.

Kneading his neck and shoulders one last time, she began to trail her hand down along his arm, massaging the bicep and tricep, then further down toward his wrist. It’s not like Dean didn’t know the difference between sexual and non-sexual touch; he’d just never had it feel so obvious before. She moved to massage his hand and for a moment their palms pressed against each other and he felt ridiculous, unbidden tears spring to his eyes. That brief moment felt different from the rest of the massage, imbued with an intimacy that cracked something open inside him. He blinked the tears from his eyes but still they leaked and he turned his head a little from side to side to wipe them on the terrycloth-covered face rest.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked, noting his movement.

Dean pushed up onto his elbows and put his face in his hands. “I need to go.”

“We still have twenty minutes left.”

He rolled over and sat up carefully, keeping the blanket tight around his hips. “I know. It’s not you. I made a mistake and there’s somewhere I need to be.”

She shrugged, finally giving him a bit of smile. “She’s a lucky girl.”

*

The drive back to the cabin was slower going as a pounding rain impeded his visibility. With headlights on and windshield wipers at a nearly frantic pace, he drove back up the mountain, darting into the opposite lane as needed to avoid branches that had blown down and onto the road. Swearing, he white-knuckled the wheel when he fishtailed in a pool of standing water, then spoke softly to Baby, coaxing her up and over the final rise to the driveway turn-off. The wind caught the heavy Impala door when he opened it and he had to yank on it with both hands to hold it steady as he climbed out into the cold, soaking rain. Closing it behind him, he darted past Cas’s car to the front door, head ducked against the wind. He shuddered as a big-ass raindrop plopped onto the back of his neck then slid right down the collar of his shirt. Slightly sheltered from the storm on the step, he banged on the front door.

Cas opened it, eyes immediately drawn from Dean standing there to the wild whipping of the pine trees. Dean took advantage of Cas’s distraction to push through the doorway and into the cabin.

Before Cas could push the door shut again, a swirl of dirt and wet pine needles blew inside. With the roar of the wind buffered a little, Cas looked from Dean’s face to the mess on the floor. He still looked bad, Dean thought. Still glassy-eyed and flushed, and he was rubbing at his forehead with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the doorknob.

“Cas, I—“

“Dean, I can’t do this with you right now.” Cas let go of the doorknob and swayed like the trees outside the window. Instinctively, Dean stepped forward to steady him. Even through the fabric of his shirt, there was no mistaking the fact that he was hot. With one hand on his upper arm, Dean laid the other palm on Cas’s forehead.

“You’re burning up. How long have you been sick?”

Cas tried to shrug away but ended up leaning heavily against Dean. “Everything hurts,” he said softly.

“Let’s get you off your feet.” Dean looked around the living room. The couch was too short for a grown man to lie down on comfortably so he steered Cas toward the other open door which turned out the be the bedroom. A pyramid bunk with a double bed on the bottom and a single upper bunk took up most of the floor space. From the look of the rumpled covers, this is where Cas had been sleeping. Dean eased him over to the bed with one hand hovering over the top of his head so he didn’t bang it on the upper bunk as he got in.

“I’m fine,” he protested, then curled up into a ball.

“Course you are,” Dean said, tucking the covers around him. “You rest and I’ll see what there is here.”

Eyes closed, Cas didn’t answer.


	7. Chapter 7

First, Dean found the bathroom and scrubbed at his wet face and hair with a hand towel. It was chilly, but he was warmer with his wet overshirt off. He wondered why Cas had chosen that particular bedroom, but with a little poking around, it became clear that it was the only real option. Some of the furniture looked like it could convert into kid-sized sleeping areas, which made sense since Mae said they liked to have grandkids with them, but in general the cabin was pretty rustic. There was only one bedroom and one bathroom, but the kitchen looked like it had everything you could ask for: full size refrigerator and stove, microwave oven, newish-looking coffee maker. Dean started opening and closing cabinet doors to get a sense of what he had to work with and discovered that Cas had apparently hit a Gas n Sip for some Winchester approved meal planning: a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a bag of pretzels, some beef jerky, and a package of sunflower seeds. Dean sighed as he opened the fridge. A jar of jelly was the only occupant.

If this was how Dean had taught him to take care of himself, it was no wonder the poor guy was sick. Dean had adjusted to a lifetime of this kind of eating but Cas hadn’t been human all that long. He probably needed balanced meals and fresh vegetables and all that shit Sam was forever going on about. Dean had been too busy tempting him with the good stuff to give Sam a chance to educate him on what he really needed. Sure, it was fun to see Cas’s eyes light up the first time he dipped a hot, salty French fry into a chocolate shake, but Dean should’ve been more responsible. He’d remedy that right now by going to the store and getting some things to nurse him through this illness. He’d seen signs of civilization maybe ten miles back. There should be some sort of grocery store there. Soup would be good. Maybe some juice? Saltines and ginger ale. Wait, that was for stomach flu. Ok, definitely some soup.

He spotted Cas’s phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Even though he knew Cas was sound asleep, he looked around furtively before picking it up. He’d just quickly turn the GPS back on and that would be one less thing he’d need to worry about. He unlocked it and it opened to the texting screen. To his texts with Dean to be precise. Only there was nothing there. Dean tried to scroll back on the screen to be sure and it became clear that Cas had deleted their entire text history. He checked the camera roll next and the picture from their dinner together was gone as well. Dean’s stomach dropped. He’d never admit it but he sometimes scrolled back through their old texts when he was alone. There was nothing earth-shattering there but he liked how Cas replied so quickly or apologized when he couldn’t. He liked the dumb little emojis Cas seemed unable to resist using, no matter the topic. He liked the way Cas thought his jokes—at least the ones he got—were funny. It helped that Cas typed “that’s funny” whenever he found Dean amusing.

Cas must be even more pissed than Dean thought to try and rid himself of all of those reminders of Dean. And here Dean was showing up unannounced and stressing him out even further. He put the phone down without going near the GPS. If Cas didn’t want to be found after this then Dean had no right to track him. Dean would get him some supplies and make sure he was alright and then he’d give him the space he obviously wanted.

Dean went back to the bedroom and stood in the doorway. Cas was still curled up but he opened his eyes at Dean’s approach. “I’m gonna go get you some real food.”

Cas let his eyes drift closed and said something too soft for Dean to hear. When moved to stand at the bedside, Cas looked up at him with sad, bleary eyes. “Can you do that later?”

Dean opened his mouth to protest. It was going to take him awhile to get there and back, especially in this weather, and the sooner he got going, the better. Plus, it would give him something to do, something other than looking at the evidence of how he’d failed his best friend. But then again, Cas didn’t generally ask for much. “You want me to wait?”

Cas nodded and Dean could tell even that small movement hurt his head.

“Did you take anything for your headache?”

“I didn’t have anything.”

“I should have some stuff in the car.” Dean started to move to the doorway, then stopped. “Is it ok if I go check?”

Cas didn’t respond.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean assured him anyhow.

He threw on his wet overshirt again for a minimal amount of protection at least, and dashed to the Impala. Rain pelted him from what seemed like every direction at once and he ducked his head under the cover of the open trunk while he dug around to find a first-aid kit that was stocked with pain reliever. Maybe it was better that he went to the store later, after all. It would probably take half as long once he waited for the storm to blow over first.

Just as he shut the trunk, a creaking sound filled the air. He turned and saw one of the large trees start to tilt precariously. With a loud _whoosh_ it tipped, branches shearing off as it collided with other trees. Dean watched as it toppled, almost in slow motion, landing across the end of the driveway to completely block all access to the road.

He stood in disbelief, blinking away the rain until a crack of thunder roused him enough to re-open the trunk and grab his duffel before hurrying back inside. With no sign of a washer or dryer, he hung the soggy shirt on the doorknob and untied the sopping laces of his boots so he could pull them off. He dried himself off just enough to keep from dripping all over the floor and then he made his way back to the bedroom.

Cas looked sickly and pale in the double bed and Dean pushed down the flare of helplessness at being trapped and unable to get him what he needed. “So, good news and bad news.”

Cas managed to focus on Dean’s face.

“Good news is I found some Tylenol.” He held up the bottle that he’d dug out of the pack. “Bad news is we’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.” Cas just blinked at him and, yeah, probably no need to go into all that. “Here.” He handed Cas the bottle, but when he made no move to take it, Dean shook two pills out into his hand. Again, Cas stared at him with a glassiness concerning enough to make Dean turn on the fake enthusiasm. “Ok, buddy,” he practically chirped, “lemme give you a hand.” Gingerly, he perched on the edge of the bed so that he could ease Cas into a sitting position. He held out the pills again and this time Cas at least opened his mouth. When Dean tipped them in, hot, dry lips brushed against his hand and he made a mental note to prioritize getting fluids into him. He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. “Drink.”

Cas swallowed once, grimacing as the pills went down. He tried to pull away, but Dean held him steady, coaxing a bit more of the water into him first. When he flopped back to being horizontal, Dean tucked the covers around him before creeping out of the room.

Changing quickly into dry pajamas pants, Dean laid his wet clothes across chair backs to dry. He fixed himself a peanut butter sandwich and tried to text his brother but, to the surprise of no one, there was no signal. The cabin was remote enough on a good day and truthfully, although it had flickered a few times, they were lucky to still have power in this storm.

He sat on the small couch and looked around. The cabin was all knotty pine: wide plank floors, dark stained trim. The simple triangle-shape roofline meant that the ceilings of the rooms slanted downward.There were throw pillows and curtains, but otherwise it was free of adornment. After spending time at the bed and breakfast, he would have never guessed this belonged to Mae, but maybe this simplicity was restful to her the same way it was to Dean. He felt more in control here, able to see the clean, straight lines of the cabin and everything in it. It seemed like there could be no surprises here, a thought that made him feel unexpectedly wistful.

It wasn’t that late, but the day had caught up with him and he longed to stretch out. He thought longingly of the warm massage table. What a fool he’d been to go rushing out of there. Of course, another twenty minutes and he might never have been able to get here, stopped by other fallen trees along the way, stranding him maybe miles down the mountain. What if he’d turned back or not attempted the drive at all? Cas would be here all alone.

That thought was enough to have him shutting off the living room lights and moving stealthily to the pitch-black bedroom. It was a small room but apparently smaller than he thought because he managed to run into the edge of the bed, and the impact was enough to make Cas moan.

“Sorry,” he whispered, hands curling along the rail of the ladder. He climbed the first two rungs and the entire bed swayed and jolted under his weight. “Sorry,” he whispered again as Cas made small, distressed sounds. “Sorry.”

“Dean.” Cas’s voice held an air of command that stopped Dean in his tracks. “If you take one more step up I will make it my life’s effort to return to heaven and regain my powers for the sole purpose of smiting you.”

Dean carefully climbed down, a smile spreading across his face. He switched on the lamp. “Feeling better, are we?”

Cas squinted against the light. He still looked crappy but Dean was pleased to see that he seemed a lot more with it. “Marginally.”

“That’s a start. Tell you what, you drink the rest of this water and I’ll stop playing human earthquake.”

“Deal.” He took the glass and drained it in two big gulps.

“Gold star.” Dean took the glass back. “I’ll get you a refill.”

He returned with a fresh glassful and, with Dean standing there to verify intake, Cas managed a few more swallows.

“Ok, so—“ Dean began when he put the water back on the nightstand.

Cas pulled back the covers. “Stop talking.”

Dean hesitated, then turned off the light so he didn’t have to see Cas’s face as he climbed into the bed beside him. “This is getting to be a nasty habit,” he muttered as Cas arranged the covers over them both.

This made three nights out of the last five that they’d spent in a bed together, and Dean didn’t know what the fuck that meant. He’d had one night of awkward, painful self-consciousness, one that smacked of orgasms and unreality, and now this. Despite being in his familiar bed in the bunker, the two nights he’d spent alone had been startlingly disagreeable. As much as he tried to tell himself it was a liability, he missed the warmth of another body beside him. He’d always found it easier to sleep with somebody else there. Maybe it was one reason he liked being on the road so much. Sam falling asleep in the passenger side of the car or in the next motel bed gave him a feeling of comfort that even his memory foam mattress couldn’t surpass. But this was more than that. This wasn’t about the sound of just any warm body breathing in the same room. As much as he’d tried to tell himself he didn’t need this, there was no place he wanted to be other than at Cas’s side. Even when Cas was sick and miserable and, honestly, kind of gross and disgusting. Dean rolled over to see if anything like this seemed to be going through Cas’s mind too and found him dead out, gently snoring.

Dean watched him sleep for a bit, the irony not lost on him. When he finally got tired enough to go to sleep himself, he scooted over until their arms touched. Despite being asleep, that closeness must’ve registered because Cas found his hand, lacing their fingers together. Dean could tell from the warm touch of his skin that his fever was up a bit, but it was too soon for him to take anything else. For a little while longer Dean lay there like an idiot smiling into the darkness, then he squeezed Cas’s hand once and let his eyes fall shut.

Some indeterminate time later, he woke with a gasp, the air being pressed from his lungs. The room was still dark and he was pinned in place, unable to move. It wasn’t until he felt the tickle of Cas’s hair against his face that his instinctual panic ebbed out of him. Cas was wrapped around him, clinging and shuddering as chills moved through him. His head was tucked under Dean’s chin and Dean could tell his fever had spiked. As gently as he could, Dean started to unwrap them, but every attempt he made had Cas clinging more tightly to him, clearly trying to absorb Dean’s own body heat. Finally, he had to shake Cas’s shoulder to wake him.

“Cas. Let me up. I need to get you more medicine.” Cas buried his face in Dean’s neck, hot and dry against Dean’s bare skin. “C’mon, man. I’ll get it and come right back.”

With a small moan of displeasure, Cas retreated. “My head hurts.”

“I know, buddy. That’s the fever. Hang on.” Dean grabbed the water glass to refill on the way out of the room. By the time he got back with the medicine, Cas was curled in on himself, hugging Dean’s pillow to his chest. His whole body intermittently shook with chills. “ _Shit,_ ” Dean hissed to himself. He should’ve set an alarm to make sure Cas got another dose before this happened. “Cas, I’m going to turn on the light, ok?”

Cas made an indecipherable sound and pressed his face into the pillow. Dean switched on the lamp and blinked at the assault on his eyes. This was not going to be easy.

“I need you to sit up and take this.” Cas didn’t move, unless you counted the shaking chills. “Just real quick, ok?” Dean tugged at the pillow and Cas made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. “C’mon, dude.”

With a lot of coaxing and cajoling, Dean got him to sit up. He refused to open his eyes to the light but Dean was able to talk him into opening his mouth for Dean to insert the pills, one at a time. As soon as Dean confirmed he’d swallowed both, he let Cas lie back down.

“Dean?” At the plaintive sound in his voice, Dean hesitated before turning off the lamp to see what he needed.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry our last day together had to be like this.”

Even though Dean knew fever talk was akin to drunk talk, he felt his blood run cold. “What do you mean?”

“Everything hurts so much. I’m glad I’m here with you at the end, at least”

Dean bit his own tongue so he wouldn’t laugh. “Cas, it’s just a fever. You’re not going to die.”

“I don’t think my vessel can sustain this.” He scrubbed at a hot tear that spilled from one eye.  “My brain is going to burst out of my skull.”

Dean switched off the light and got back into bed. “I promise you it won’t.”

“I’m cold,” he whimpered.

“I know. C’mere.” Cas launched himself at Dean, but he was ready for him this time. Dean tugged the covers up over Cas’s shoulders then wrapped his arms around him. Cas burrowed back in and Dean could feel hot breath on his neck. He held him firmly, trying to buffer the chills with his own body. With one hand, he rubbed small circles in Cas’s upper back, hoping to ease the rigid set of his shoulders. Slowly but surely, the chills lessened in intensity until he merely quivered occasionally. His weight grew heavy on Dean as his limbs relaxed, but it was a comforting weight, a sharing of a burden rather than a restraint. With his arms still around Cas, Dean fell back asleep.

 

 

The next time Dean awoke, the sun was up and Cas was damp with sweat. Dean placed a palm on Cas’s forehead and discovered he was nice and cool. The shifting position woke Cas and he lifted his head. One side of his hair was smashed flat and the other was standing up. His face was dark with stubble and he was scowling, but his blue eyes were clear. “You’re sweaty,” he said.

“If I am that’s because your fever broke and you sweated all over both of us.”

He eased himself off of Dean, tugging at the sweat-stained shirt that stuck to his chest. “That is highly unpleasant.”

Dean gestured grandly toward the window. “At least you’re alive to see this new day.” Cas looked at him in confusion. Dean decided to save this particular incident for future teasing purposes. “Never mind. Think you can manage a shower?”

“I think so.”

Dean got out of bed so that Cas could get out. “Get up slowly” he cautioned, and he stood by to make sure he didn’t have any problem. In his head, he could hear Sam calling him a mother hen but the hovering paid off because, sure enough, Cas staggered as soon as he got up. Dean grabbed him to steady him. “Head down.” _See, Sammy?_

After a moment of adjusting to the position change, he was all right again and walked to the bathroom haltingly but under his own power. Once he was showered and dressed, Dean instructed him to sit and rest until Dean could shower and put together a semblance of breakfast.

“I can’t thank you enough, Dean, for what you did for me,” Cas said when they were done eating. He looked at Dean with his eyes big and sincere, a softness on his face that made Dean uncomfortable.

Standing to clear the dishes, Dean waved a hand to dismiss him. “You just needed Tylenol and some time.”

“It was a lot more than that,” Cas said. Even though Dean knew it was true, he didn’t want to go down this road with him, leaving him with the wrong idea.

He shrugged. “It was nothing. So, do you--”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Cas interrupted him, his face gone stern. “It was a lot.”

Dean felt a familiar ache. Cas being mad at him? This he knew how to deal with. “Whatever.” 

He was two steps toward the kitchen when Cas’s voice made his heart clench. Not because he was yelling, but because he sounded so soft, nearly pleading. “Dean.”

Dean set the dishes down in the kitchen and stopped, still facing away.

“I know that it’s hard for you to accept praise, but that’s not going to stop me from giving it.”

“Oh, you know me so well, huh?” When he whirled around, Cas was standing there. He opened his mouth to respond but Dean cut him off. “Don’t give me that Hell bullshit. You think you know me, but you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t keep giving me these chances.”

Cas looked at him, brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You do all this shit for me and then when I turn around and do one little thing for you, you act like it’s the best gift you ever got. Like if you praise me enough, I’ll finally see the light and change who I am. But I’m not going to be that guy, Cas. I’m never gonna remember what you put on your waffles or what kind of shampoo you like or bring you things just because.” He thought of Mary Jane Sutton and her wilting vase of flowers. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Cas stared at him, his mouth pressed into a thin line before he huffed out a breath.  “When did I ever ask you to be anything other than what you are?”

“I can’t give back to you what you give to me.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I do these things because they bring me pleasure? Not because I’m expecting anything in return?”

Dean shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“So now you’re the one telling me what I want?”

“I’m just saying that I know how this goes." He scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. "I’ve been down this road before and it always ends the same way.”

Cas looked at him with such intensity that it made the back of his neck prickle. “I don’t need you to be someone different. I wouldn’t want you to be.”

Dean gave a small, sad shake of his head, his lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “You say that now but it’s never been enough for anyone.” He shrugged, trying to look unconcerned even as he forced the words out. “They always leave.”

Dean felt his resolve waver at Cas's hangdog look. But it wasn’t just romantic relationships that he’d ruined, it was all of them. Sometimes people didn’t just walk away from him, sometimes they ran. Sometimes they planned for months to escape to California. Sometimes they evaporated in a rustle of wings. Sometimes they died. Dean knew the result would always be the same, and he pushed and he pushed until he was proven right. It was easier in the long run. Better not to let them get too close in the first place.

After a long silence, Cas responded. “I’m sorry I left without telling you. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have disappeared like that.”

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s cool. I’m used to it.”

Cas stared at the floor, considering. “Maybe they do leave, Dean. Maybe everyone does at some point.” Dean nodded, even as the words hit him like a fist. There was no running from this particular truth. Cas lifted his head slowly, pinning Dean in place with merely the strength of his gaze. Barely able to breathe, Dean stood frozen while Cas moved toward him, close enough to lay a hand along the side of his face. “But maybe you need to leave them room to come back again.”

The air between them felt charged and alive as Cas leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dean’s. This wasn’t an alcohol-fueled heat of the moment kiss or some pretend boyfriend affection for show or free dessert. This was Cas asking him to stop running, and Dean ready to be found.

Dean’s mouth tingled from the light touch and he pressed into it, arms reaching up to wrap around Cas’s shoulders and bring them closer. Part of Dean felt shy and awkward, which was ridiculous. He’d had Cas’s dick in his mouth already and here he was embarrassed to be kissing him. Maybe someday he’d learn to take the easy path but right now he didn’t have time to worry about that because Cas’s mouth was wet and hot, and Dean didn't even care that he might still be contagious. Cas broke the kiss and hugged Dean close, breathing heavily against his ear. Dean squeezed him tighter, scared to let go, but Cas put both hands on Dean’s shoulders and pulled back to look at him, smiling softly at him, blue eyes shining.

With a jolt, Dean put a hand on his forehead. “You feeling ok?” Because maybe this was some sort of fever dream after all, even though he wasn’t the one with the fever. Cas felt perfectly cool to the touch.

“A little tired, but fine.”

Dean took him by the hand and led him to the loveseat. They sat with their knees bumping, holding hands and shyly grinning at each other. Occasionally one or the other would lean forward and start up a new session of kissing, but it was easy and lazy and perfectly comfortable. Dean kept his eyes on Cas’s mouth when they broke apart, his lips shiny and pink. As he watched, they parted into an enormous yawn.

Standing, Dean pulled him to his feet. “Nap time.”

“I’m fine,” Cas insisted, through another yawn.

“You’re not having a relapse on my watch,” Dean informed him.

Cas looked at him seriously. “I require constant supervision.”

“Do you now?” Dean smiled. “I think I can arrange that.”

Dean led him into the bedroom and got into bed beside him. As soon as they were tucked in, Cas rolled to face Dean. He kissed him once, then closed his eyes and was out in a matter of minutes. Lying there, Dean fought the urge to get up and do something. There were dishes to be washed or he could check on the state of the road, maybe walk out to see if he could get a signal on his phone. It felt indulgent to lie here and watch the tiny shadows Cas’s lashes made on his cheek and the way his hair curled behind his ear. A tiny part of his brain urged him to do more than simply get up out of the bed and putter around, it screamed at him to get in his car and drive. _You know how this ends_ , it raged deep inside him. _Get out first_. “Fuck you,” Dean whispered to himself, snaking an arm around Cas, who burrowed closer. He could do nothing but lie here for hours, carding his fingers through Cas’s hair, and it would still be the most important thing he did today.

It felt strange to be touching Cas with such straightforward intent. In some miraculous fashion, they’d moved past that all-consuming stage where Dean had kept a mental tally of when he’d last touched Cas and how long needed to pass before he could safely do it again. So much mental energy devoted to wondering when he could next casually rest a hand on his shoulder, tug him by the arm, or maybe let their knees touch in a diner booth. That place inside him was now filled with an almost giddy satisfaction at being able to knead the back of his neck or drag a knuckle along the sharp cut of his cheekbone.

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to Cas’s forehead. He spent some time trying to smooth down the part of Cas’s hair that refused to be tamed. Cas made a soft huff and his breath was warm against Dean’s neck. Dean kissed his forehead one more time, to check for the return of his fever the way Missouri had done to him long ago, but there was no cause to worry. Dean pulled him a little closer and fell asleep with his cheek resting on the tickly softness of his hair.

He dreamed of the beach. The sand beneath his towel was warm and soft and every part of him was relaxed. A gentle breeze that caressed his exposed skin and the ocean was a calm, clear blue, mirroring the cloudless sky above. He propped himself up on his elbows, squinting as the sun sparkled on the surface of the water in a dazzling, almost too bright display. Cas stood at the water’s edge, his back to Dean. He was shirtless and the sun left his lean, tanned skin gleaming. He waded ankle deep into the surf, and Dean felt a flare of worry. He hoped Cas knew to look out for jellyfish and the riptides that could be hidden beneath the placid surface. He sat up, ready to call to him, but Cas turned and looked over his shoulder and smiled, raising a hand in greeting as he started to walk back toward Dean. Relieved, Dean lay back again, only this time he was in a hammock, swaying gently back and forth. He let himself sink into it, growing heavier by the moment as the rocking continued. Cas should be back by now, but Dean couldn’t see him and everything felt so heavy that he couldn’t even raise his head to look. He struggled to lift himself up to see where Cas was, but a weight pinned him down even as he flailed.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice was close, close enough that Dean opened his eyes to find his face just inches away. The weight Dean felt was that of one ex-angel who had moved from lying beside him to lying on top of him. With a pleasant jolt, Dean realized that Cas had been rolling their hips together and he felt the damp heat on his neck from where Cas had apparently been kissing it.

“Hey,” he breathed, now that he knew where he was.

Cas went still and gave him some space. “This ok?”

Still fuzzy with sleep, Dean nodded, tugging Cas back down so he could kiss him properly. There was a buzzing in his ears that he tried to ignore as Cas’s tongue slid along his collarbone. Dean had just tightened his arms around Cas when there was a banging at the front door.

In seconds they had pulled apart, both of them out of the bottom bunk as quickly as they possibly could without causing major bodily injury. They crept across the living room and Dean grabbed his gun from where he’d carelessly left it in his jacket. There was a second pounding at the door and Cas got into position to answer it with Dean hidden out of sight, weapon at the ready.

It was a sharp reminder of the real world just outside their door. Anything from a fully human serial killer to God himself could be on the front step waiting for them. The bed and breakfast, this cabin, neither one of these were real life. Maybe for other people, but not for them. Maybe who they were in those settings wasn’t real life either. Dean tried to shake away that thought, that this was a fantasy that wouldn’t survive the outside world. With the buzzing in his head growing stronger, he watched on high alert as Cas opened the door.

That’s when Dean realized the buzzing was a power tool.

A man was at the door, dressed in a heavy canvas jacket. A pair of safety goggles hung around his neck. “Hey, just checking to see that everyone up here was all right. We’re working on getting that tree out of the road.”

Cas looked over the man’s shoulder to where the buzz of a chainsaw was filling the air. Dean tucked the gun into his waistband but stayed out of sight. “Thank you, we’re fine.”

“That storm was a doozy,” the man said. “Should have this taken care of in a couple of hours. Always fun to get the chainsaw fired up!”

Cas thanked him again and closed the door. He turned to Dean. “Do you have a chainsaw?”

“No, but I have a grenade launcher,” Dean said proudly. “Maybe I should’ve tried that?”

Cas shook his head. “I’m glad you didn’t.” He gave Dean a long, hungry look. “Now, where were we?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean looked down at the ground.

“Oh,” Cas said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“No!” Dean assured him, “No, not that.”

Cas tilted his head. “What, then?”

This brush with the real world had gotten under Dean’s skin. It left him at a tipping point, with decisions to make. If they were going to do this, if Cas was willing to be with him despite everything, he meant to do it right. Not sneaking around, not playing pretend.

Without quite meeting Cas’s eyes, Dean let out a long breath. “I don’t even know if this makes sense but…I kinda want to wait until we get back home?” He checked for Cas’s reaction and was surprised to see him grinning like Dean had given him a box tied up with bright ribbon.

“Until we’re back at the bunker?”

“Yeah.”

Cas kissed him on the cheek. “That’s perfect.”

“It is?” Dean was almost too surprised to be appreciative.

“It is. So I assume this means you’ve decided how to tell Sam?”

Dean blinked at him, mouth gaping. “Uh.”

Cas laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got seven hours of driving to figure it out.”


	8. Chapter 8

As promised, the road was cleared after lunch. It didn’t take long for them to pack up what little they had and close up the cabin. There was a lockbox by the front door and Cas carefully punched in the code and replaced the key. Dean leaned against the Continental, waiting while Cas put his bag into the trunk. The car was an eyesore but Dean knew it was in good, solid shape and that gave him a bit of comfort which he shouldn’t even need given that they were only going to be separated for a few hours.

Even though there was no one around, it felt different kissing him outdoors where anyone might be watching, but Dean tamped down the fear and focused on the soft, dry feel of Cas’s lips against his. Cas had spent too much time kept at arm’s length and Dean was determined to keep him from feeling second best.

When they couldn’t put it off any longer, Cas stepped back from where he’d been crowding him against the car. Dean kept hold of his hand until the last possible minute.

“Drive safe,” he finally told Cas, like this millennia-old angel who had picked up the art of driving in no time flat was a high schooler who’d just gotten his license. It was ridiculous but Dean couldn’t seem to rein himself in. “If you need to stop, just put on your signal. I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t text and drive.”

Cas’s eyes went soft with affection. “I promise.”

“Ok.” Dean nodded once, still standing there. “I’ll get started then.”

“Yeah, you probably should,” Cas said, not making any move to get in his car.

Jesus Christ, they were playing a face-to-face round of _you hang up first, no_ you _hang up first_. Dean smacked himself in the forehead. “Ok, the sooner we go, the sooner we get there.” He leaned in for one last kiss, but Cas put a hand to his chest to stop him when he tried to deepen it.

“Dean,” he said, in a deep, decisive voice that made Dean a little weak in the knees. “It’s time to go.”

Great, now Dean had to drive with the beginnings of a boner.

Dean drove the Impala down off the mountain, one eye on the rearview mirror to make sure Cas was behind him. The call of the open road seemed subdued, something he needed to tolerate until he could be with Cas again. He thought about all the times he’d driven with Cas in the passenger seat, right there beside him. Mile after mile, hour after hour, he’d been too scared to reach across and touch him. He trailed the fingers of his right hand against the leather of the seat. How easy it would be now to twine their fingers together or for him to rest his hand on Cas’s thigh as they drove. He checked again that Cas was behind him. Suddenly everything felt like a threat: other drivers who could be impaired or distracted, overhanging tree limbs, rocks that could topple down from hillsides without warning. And none of that took into account Cas himself. What if a little time and distance had him thinking clearly, realizing that this wasn’t what he wanted after all? So far Cas had stayed closely behind him, maintaining a safe distance while matching each lane change. But what if he came to his senses and veered off at the next exit? Dean felt his heart thump as he tried to anticipate where he’d go next. Cas had promised he would turn on his GPS again, but Dean should’ve checked it himself. He reached for his phone to open his locater app, but before he could get it unlocked, he caught sight of Cas’s turn signal blinking.

The next exit was less than a mile away so Dean moved into the right-hand lane. Cas followed suit and at the end of the exit ramp Dean pulled into a Gas N Sip. Dean got out and rolled his shoulders while he waited for Cas to get out of his car. His heart did a little flip at the sight of him and he couldn’t resist grinning at him.

“Whatcha need? Coffee?”

Cas wasn’t smiling. “Why are we driving so slowly?”

“What?”

Cas repeated the question, with deliberate pauses between each word.

Dean didn’t know how to say _I want to keep you in my sights at all times_ so he smirked and said, “Just making sure you could keep up in that heap of junk.”

“You are aware that we have plans when we get back home, correct?” Before Dean could respond to that, Cas continued. “And I saw you swerve a little. Were you on your phone?”

“No, I—“

Cas glared at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Dean rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “Did you turn the GPS back on your phone?” His voice came out smaller than he’d intended.

Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and tapping until he showed Dean the proper screen. His face was gentle with concern. “I told you I would.”

“I know, I just…I should have trusted you.”

“You had every reason not to.”

“And you had every reason to keep going.”

The roar of traffic on the highway filled the space between them as they stood in silence. A mom and three little boys came out of the mini mart laughing and talking animatedly in Spanish.

“I want to be where you are, Dean.”

“That’s what I want, too.” He sighed. “I promise to stop being weird about everything soon.”

“I doubt that.” Cas said it so lightly that it took Dean a second to be offended. But then he turned serious again. “Oh, and Dean, there’s one more thing.”

Dean steeled himself for whatever it was. He could do this.

“I want that coffee.”

*

It was nearly dark when they got back, headlights illuminating the winding narrow road that led to the bunker. Dean had called Sam from the Gas N Sip to let him know they were on their way home and he came to the garage to greet them. Dean never felt more happily settled than when the three of them were safely together in the secure confines of the bunker.

“Hey, guys! Welcome back. Good trip?”

Ok, so Sam wasn’t going to let on in front of Cas that he knew Dean had gone after him to make some sort of amends. Dean was grateful for that but it left Cas looking at him expectantly.

“Uh. Yeah. I’d say. I told you about the storm, right? And the tree?”

“Yeah, that was crazy. You guys were just stuck there, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean Cas was sick so he needed the rest, so…” Now Sam was looking at him like there was more he needed to say. And Cas had that vaguely disappointed crease between his brows. Dean cleared his throat. “But yeah, everything worked out, so we’re all good now.” There, that was pretty good, right? He made for the trunk.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice was soft, but his tone was unmistakable.

 _Shit_. “Ok, so Sam, I have news. Well, we both do, really.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted in interest. “Oh yeah?”

“So, Cas and I are…” _Jesus, Winchester, just spit it out._ “Together.”

In confusion, Sam gestured at the two of them standing near the Impala. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“No, I mean we’re _together_ together.”

Sam shook his head slightly, his face screwed up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Together, like we’re a _thing_ now.”

“You aren’t making any sense.” Sam sounded truly concerned and turned to Cas. “Did you guys run into a witch? Some sort of curse?”

Dean threw Cas a desperate look, but he stood there stoically, waiting for Dean to elaborate. Dean stopped himself from reaching for Cas’s hand because that felt like the easy way out. “Cas and I have...embarked on...” Awesome, sounded like they’d boarded a cruise ship. He cleared his throat and pulled up the metaphorical anchor.  “A romantic relationship.”

“Oh, that? Yeah, I knew that.” Sam ran a casual hand through his hair.

“You did?”

“Yeah, Cas called and told me.”

Dean shot Cas a murderous look but Cas merely smiled and reached for his hand. “You both suck,” he muttered.

“Nah, just your boyfriend.”

“Sam!”

“Bye guys! Try not to do anything that will scar me for life!” He practically scurried down the hall leaving them standing with their bags.

Ok, so Cas and Sam had already talked. About him. About _them._  Sam knew and not only was he cool with it, he was actively giving them alone time and teasing Dean about their sex life. Sam knew he and Cas were going to have sex. _Holy crap, he and Cas were going to have sex._ Knowing ahead of time somehow made it a lot more momentous. But like, how did he go about getting to that portion of the program? Since it was his idea to wait until they got to the bunker, could he just ask “Do you want to go get naked now?” _Holy crap, he and Cas were going to get naked and then have sex._ The mental pictures caused his brain to short out and he realized he was standing there with his mouth hanging open like the least attractive Righteous Man ever.

He tried to pull himself together. “So….uh….you want to eat or something?”

Cas raised a single eyebrow and spoke in a voice that brooked no argument. “Your room. Ten minutes.” Dean blinked hard a couple of times. Then he nodded his head enthusiastically and made to leave the garage. Cas, still holding his hand, pulled him back for a single, voracious kiss. “Nine and a half minutes.”

In his room, Dean checked his watch. Not enough time for a shower but he had time to dash to the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, and reapply deodorant. Back in his room he stripped off his two shirts and replaced them with a clean black t-shirt. Two minutes left. He took off his boots. Then his socks. Then he put on clean socks. Then he took them off again. He caught sight of his unmade bed and tripped over his boots rushing to straighten it. He was replacing the second pillow when a knock on the door made him jump and clutch the pillow to his chest. He forced his fingers to uncurl and set the pillow down. Running his hand through his hair to spike it up one last time, he said “Come in” as casually as he could.

(It came out a little breathy.)

Cas entered, and as much as Dean liked seeing him in Dean’s old clothes, there was something right about him being back in his suit and tie. Hell, Dean wouldn’t have complained if he’d had the trench coat on, too (the old one, not the new one that couldn’t billow behind him if its life depended on it). He strode in looking completely at ease, while Dean felt his palms begin to sweat. _It’s just sex_ , he tried to tell himself, but not a single part of him believed that. Sex was easy. It was uncomplicated and a means to an end. There was a give and take but in general there was always a timer counting down from the start of any sexual encounter. He took pains to be a gentleman but he never stuck around long enough for any long-term performance reviews. There was always someplace else to be: another town further down the highway, another shitty bar or lousy motel.

With that thought, something clicked into place. Dean knew it had felt important for them to be back here before they…well, “consummated their relationship” didn’t sound quite right, but that was the closest he could get. He hadn’t been able to say why, exactly, but now he realized it was because it was too easy to be someone he wasn’t when he was on the road. Too easy to adopt the love ‘em and leave ‘em Dean Winchester persona. Even with Cas by his side, the bed and breakfast was an act. The cabin was something outside of their control. If they were going to do this, he wanted it to be here, in his own room where he could be fully himself.

Apparently, _fully himself_ meant a goddamn nervous wreck. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about as Cas approached him. Oh wait, the same thing he was always worried about: that he would disappoint Cas, who would surely realize his mistake and be gone when Dean woke up in the morning.

Cas reached for him, then stopped, a quizzical look in his eyes. “Stop that,” he said, but as far as admonitions went, it carried no heat.

“Stop what?”

“Overthinking everything.”

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans. “Trying.”

“How about this,” Cas suggested, as he ran a thumb along Dean’s jaw. “How about I do the thinking for both of us?”

Dean wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but his dick gave a little, happy twitch so he decided to go with it. “Ok.”

Cas leaned in to kiss him, soft and teasing, darting his tongue lightly against his lips but nothing more. He kissed Dean until Dean’s head was swimming and he pressed back against Cas trying to get more. When Cas pulled away, his eyes were shining and he smiled at Dean. “You are such a gift.”

Dean ducked his head in embarrassment at such an open statement of affection.

Cas tipped his chin up so that Dean had to meet his eyes. “And you deserve to hear many more good things.” Dean didn’t know what to make of that and half the blood rushed to his face while the other half went straight down leaving him a weird mix of embarrassed and turned on. Still, he zeroed in on Cas’s next word: “However.”

Dean tried to keep his breathing steady. “However?”

“However, you acted extremely selfishly before.” Cas was dragging his thumb along Dean’s lower lip as he spoke. Dean didn’t know what Cas was talking about, so to buy himself some time to think, he tried to suck it into his mouth, but Cas kept it just out of reach.

“I did?” he finally managed because higher level thought was not a thing that was happening.

Cas leaned in again like he was going to kiss Dean, but instead their stubble whispered together and he murmured in Dean’s ear. “You didn’t let me touch you last time.”

Cas licked around Dean’s earlobe and Dean found himself with two handfuls of Cas’s suit coat. Dean was going to combust. His knees were going to give out and he was going to be on the floor engulfed in flames. “Cas, c’mon.” That was not a whine. Dean Winchester did not whine.

“So, because you deprived me last time, this time we’re doing things my way…all right?” He searched Dean’s face as he turned it into a question and Dean knew he was being given an out. He knew without Cas having to say it that if there was any hesitation on his face, Cas would back away from this particular tactic. But Dean also knew that his blood felt like lightning in his veins, his fingertips were _tingling_ for fuck’s sake, and all they’d done so far was kiss. Yeah, this was more than alright with him. He nodded and the smile Cas gave him in return made his chest swell with pride.

Stepping back, Cas freed his coat from Dean’s grasp. He took it off, careful to hang it over the back of Dean’s desk chair. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled up the sleeves while Dean tried not to fidget, his fingers itching to pull off his own shirt. Cas saw and took Dean’s hands in his. He brought them to his mouth and kissed each palm then turned Dean around to face away from him. Cas rested his hands on Dean’s waist and leaned forward to nuzzle at his neck before kissing down toward the juncture of his shoulder. Sighing happily, Dean tipped his head to the side to give him full access to his neck. Cas thanked him by sucking hard at the tender skin. A shudder passed through Dean at the sudden sharp pain, and Cas gave it a quick scrape with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.

Cas snuck his fingers under Dean’s t-shirt, spanning his waist with his hands so lightly that Dean wriggled against the ticklish touch. As he did, he pressed back against Cas and felt the enticing beginnings of his erection when Cas shifted. Cas moved his hands upwards, bunching up the fabric of Dean’s shirt as he lifted it higher and higher. The room air felt chilly against Dean’s skin as he raised his arms overhead to help Cas pull it off. At once, Cas wrapped both arms around his chest and nosed at the base of his skull. Even though they were pressed together, it wasn’t enough for Dean and he found himself lacing the fingers of one hand with Cas’s and reaching back with the other to grab at Cas’s waist and pull them even closer. He could feel the fabric of Cas’s shirt and the dig of the buttons against his bare skin where his tie had swung to the side. When Cas trailed one hand down to work at Dean’s belt, Dean turned his head to get his mouth on Cas’s. It was messy and awkward and he couldn’t get the angle right to fully kiss him but somehow that half-kiss felt like a denial that heated him from the inside out.

He wanted to turn in the circle of Cas’s arms and kiss him fully. He wanted to hook his fingers in Cas’s belt loops and yank him until there wasn’t even a breath of air between them. But when he began to shift, Cas pinched his nipple hard and Dean gasped and knew to stay where he was. Satisfied, Cas rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting until it was hard and over-sensitive even as his other hand popped the button on his jeans.

By now Cas had navigated across every inch of skin from one shoulder to the other and deep down Dean desperately hoped he was covered with marks. He’d wear his oldest, loosest t-shirts so that everyone could see them and know that he’d been claimed.

He didn’t even realize he’d been making soft, contented humming sounds until they were replaced with a gasp as Cas plunged his hand into Dean’s open jeans, cupping and palming at his hard cock through his underwear. His other hand moved to rest against Dean’s throat, not pressing or squeezing, but a warm, solid presence that made Dean feel controlled in all the right ways. It told him that he could let go and give this over to Cas, that he could trust him to take care of him. With that, something in his mind switched off and surrendered himself to taking whatever pleasure Cas decided to give him.

That’s how he found himself standing there completely naked with Cas still fully dressed, running his hands over every bit of exposed skin that he could reach. Dean’s head lolled back against Cas’s shoulder, mouth open as he panted. Cas never kept his hands in one place for too long: he’d flick his fingers over a nipple, then caress the length of Dean’s arm, or rest his palm over the softness of his stomach. He licked the skin behind Dean’s ear while he trailed two fingers lightly over the head of his cock and Dean felt him smile against his skin at the spurt of precome in response to his touch.

Finally, Cas murmured _on the bed_ into his ear, and it took Dean a moment for his brain to connect to his limbs so that he could comply. Hooking a finger in the knot of his tie to loosen it, Cas stood over him, letting his eyes roam across Dean’s body. At once, Dean understood why Cas was exacting this particular revenge because watching him methodically undress without being able to reach out and touch him was pure torture. Dean’s fingers ached to slip between the buttons of his white shirt and to tease along his waistband. He wanted to stroke him through his clothes, feeling him come to life under his touch. Instead he watched, his own hands grasping at the blankets. As Cas undressed, his demeanor never changed. He didn’t blush or turn his back as he removed his underwear. Unlike Dean, he didn’t seem bothered by exposing his body in the well-lit room, worried that maybe his stomach wasn’t as flat as it could be (spoiler alert: it was perfect). It was a reminder to Dean that Cas didn’t have the same self-consciousness regarding nudity or sexuality that plagued most humans. To him, the body in its natural form—whatever form that may happen to take—was a thing to be honored and revered. It was a source of life, strength, and pleasure. Speaking of which, Dean took in the pleasurable sight of Cas’s bare ass while he folded his slacks neatly over the back of the chair. That sight was enough for Dean to stop sucking in his own stomach and focus on using The Force to will Cas to join him on the bed.

Apparently, Dean was a goddamned Jedi master because Cas climbed onto the bed, straddling Dean’s thighs. Sitting back, he gazed at Dean with such a contented, soft look in his eyes that it took all of Dean’s self-control not to pull the pillow over his face. Interlacing their fingers, Cas leaned forward until he had Dean’s hands pressed down on either side of the pillow. He bent to kiss him and their cocks slid together with a delicious drag that had Dean trying buck up his hips. Cas took his time, kissing and nipping as he worked his way down Dean’s body, frequently moving back up to kiss Dean’s swollen lips, making sure their cocks met with that maddening slow slide each time.

When Cas let go of his hands so that he could scoot down and kneel between Dean’s legs, Dean reached for him, kneading his shoulders and threading his hands up into Cas’s hair. He gasped at the first press of Cas’s tongue to his dick, hot and wet as he licked up the wetness pearling there. Dean moaned, trying not to tug at Cas’s hair when he switched from planting light little kisses along his length to taking him fully into his mouth. Cas wrapped his hand along the base, stroking what he couldn’t get into his mouth as he sucked. He used his free hand to cup Dean’s balls, rolling them lightly as he explored what he could do with his tongue. Dean whimpered a little when he flicked it over the head of his cock, so Cas did it again and again until Dean was arching upwards and panting. Cas must’ve known Dean was getting close because he pulled off, pressing a kiss to the inside of Dean’s thigh before moving to stretch out alongside him on the bed.  

Dean rolled to face him, so anxious to kiss him that he forgot that he finally had a chance to get a hand on Cas’s dick. He could taste his own saltiness on Cas’s tongue as he kissed Cas hard, moaning into his mouth when Cas took both of them in his hand and began to stroke. Cas tightened his grip and Dean was so surrounded by sensation that he pressed even closer to Cas, grasping his shoulders so he could thrust up into his hand. Trying to catch his breath, Dean broke the kiss and lay there gasping, their foreheads pressed together. _Yeah_  Dean chanted, and sometimes _Cas_ as his orgasm neared, building and finally cresting over him when Cas touched his face. He spilled hot over Cas’s fist, but Cas showed him no mercy, using Dean’s come to slick his hand, driving up the pace until, with a broken cry, he reached his own climax.

They lay there, sticky and sweaty and breathing each other in. As his heart rate slowed, Dean came back to the present, aware of the little sounds in the room like the faint hum of the bedside lamp and the rustle of bedclothes as Cas shifted next to him.

“Jesus,” he said, when he was able to speak. “Where’d you learn how to do that?” Then he froze for a second. “Wait, if the answer is actually ‘Jesus’ don’t tell me because I don’t want to know.”

Cas laughed. “You pick up a few things here and there when you watch humanity as long as I have.”

Rolling onto his back, Dean stretched happily. “Well, everyone knows I’m your favorite humanity.”

“You are indeed.” Cas gave him an adoring look that turned into one of concern when Dean lost his cocky grin. “What is it?”

Dean propped himself up on one elbow to look at Cas. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not getting...” Dean waved a hand weakly between them, “here sooner.”

Cas kept his gaze steady. “You weren’t ready before.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready now,” Dean admitted. “But I’m here. I’m in.”

“That’s all I ask.” Cas kissed him. “Ok, maybe that plus a towel.”

“I’m on it.” Reluctantly, Dean got to his feet and threw on his robe to go to the bathroom. He pulled the bedroom door shut behind him and stopped in the hall to breathe, tensed for the onslaught of fear and regret that was bound to wash over him now that he’d left Cas’s side. He took two deep breaths, then a third. He felt...fine. He felt happy and relaxed and the only anxiety nagging at him was the one urging him to be back in bed, up against Cas’s warm body. Why the hell was he standing out here in the hall by himself like an idiot?

He hurried to the bathroom and back, half convinced he’d taken so long that Cas would be gone by the time he returned. But he was there, white sheets against tanned skin, hair a wreck, blue eyes watching Dean open the door. That same wariness was in his eyes as he waited to see which version of Dean came back into the room. Dean tossed him the towel and saw Cas’s face harden, particularly when Dean didn’t come straight back to bed.

Cas threw the covers off and started to get up. “I’ll--”

“Don’t you dare.” Dean picked up his phone from his desk. Cas squinted at him in confusion as Dean tapped on his phone for a moment. A muffled chime sounded from Cas’s coat and Dean dug it out of the pocket. “You got a text,” he said, shedding his robe and getting back into bed.

Cas took the phone from his hand. The picture of the two of them filled the screen and Cas’s face softened into a smile. “That was a good night.”

Dean kissed him. “First of many.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [This Town by Niall Horan.](https://youtu.be/hNBlfyYHu80)


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